Misery Business is Simply Theatrics
by xXDark.Lord.MeloniousXx
Summary: The boys are hiking through the rocky roads of adolescence with a crazed principle, weirdo teachers, raging hormones, strange realizations, new talents and new tortures. It's bound to be a long fanfic with lots of fluff & angst ahead. STYLE coupling
1. Baby Got Back

"Dude, I fuckin' hate school." Stan muttered as he walked along side his best friend. His friend Kenny walked beside his right side while a fat boy Eric Cartman walked beside Kenny. His best friend walked along his left side and replied,

"I know, Stan, you've said that a million times today. Why do you hate it so much?"

"I need a reason? Ugh, I hate high school…it's too much stress." Stan rolled his eyes.

Kenny muffled, "Fidjoohurawoutrehblay?"

Cartman scoffed, "Ha! Yeah, I heard about the school play. Did you hear about it, fag?"

Stan glared, knowing full well that Cartman was referring to him. His best friend stuck up for him, though and took the hit, "How do any words penetrate the layers of fat around your ears?"

Cartman glared as Stan and Kenny laughed. Cartman snarled, "Shut up, Jew, I'm not fat, I'm big-boned."

"Well that explains why there's no room in your skull for anything more than a pea-size brain."

The boys laughed again as Cartman's face went red and he barked, "Shut the fuck up, you fuckin' Jew, no one cares what you think!"

The laughter died out slowly and reluctantly; as Stan wiped away an invisible tear with a last chuckle he asked, "Well, what about the school play?"

Cartman told him all-knowingly, "Well they wanted to do Romeo and Juliet, but apparently there wasn't a girl good enough in the load they got to audition."

"…so they're not doing Romeo and Juliet?" Stan inquired.

"No, they're doing it. They're just doing it 'the old-fashioned way'. Just boys doing all the parts. The girls are going to be extras and crew helpers. It's gonna be mad gay. Total sausage fest." Cartman mocked.

The boy in the green Ushanka who walked alongside Stan's left sneered, "God, you're so immature, Cartman. You know people actually enjoy that kind of stuff, you shouldn't insult it just cause you have no talent and an ego fatter than your ass."

Cartman glowered towards the boy and fought, "What about you, KAHL? HUH? YOU WANNA GO AROUND SPEWING POEMS TO GAY BOYS?"

Kyle rolled his eyes again and retorted, "Not at all, you fuckin' fat ass. I'm just open-minded."

Cartman smirked, "You call me fat ass cause you're jealous, everyone knows that chicks dig big butts."

"What?" Stan and Kyle snorted.

Cartman added confidently, "Duh, haven't you ever heard the song Daddy Got Back?"

Kyle glared as Stan and Kenny burst into laughter, Kyle told him all-knowingly, "You fuckin' retard, that's Baby Got Back, and it's about girls with big asses."

Cartman snorted, "Whatever, doesn't matter cause girls still like guys with good butts, but you don't even have one."

Kyle flustered and perked a brow, "Oh, so you hate gays cause you're insecure about staring at my ass all day, Cartman?"

The fat boy's eyes filled with anger as he argued, "N-NO! YOU FUCKIN' PERVERT!"

Kyle laughed, "Heh, yeah, 'I'm' the perv."

Cartman seethed and announced, "That's it! Screw yew guys, I'm goin' home…"

With that the boy stormed away from them. Kyle looked to Stan as he laughed with Kenny and asked,

"What's his issue?"

"He's a power-hungry, obese, hormone-driven adolescent with sociopathic tendencies." Stan replied.

Kenny added, "Mehtendgisgomsfuhdowr"

Stan repeated, "Yeah, and his mom's a whore."

Kyle smirked, "Yeah I guess…"

"Teelewjeesyata!" Kenny called as he waved good-bye and ran off to another block.

They waved and responded cheerily, "Yeah, see ya, Kenny!"

They walked in a comfortable silence for a few moments before Kyle began watching his feet striding across the cement. Kyle suddenly muttered, "H-hey, Stan…would you…uhm…we're still…super-best-friends, right?"

Stan chuckled, "Yeah, 'course…why?"

"Well…super-best-friends…they…they'll do anything for each other, right?" Kyle asked shyly.

"Uhm…yes?" Stan responded hesitantly.

"Well…would you…" Kyle finally looked up to Stan with pleading eyes and an awkward smile, "would you tell me if I have an ass or not?"

Stan's face contorted as he stammered, "W-what?!"

Kyle blushed, "I just…I just want to make sure Cartman isn't right…I mean…I have some ass, right? I'm not just…just bone, right?"

Stan sighed and looked around; there was no one within miles. The streets were practically deserted. Stan reluctantly breathed deeply and told Kyle, "Uh…okay…walk…walk ahead of me."

Kyle laughed ungracefully, "T-thanks, dude…"

Kyle did as told and walked ahead of Stan, and after a moment Stan followed. Stan watched Kyle's big (but not obnoxiously so) feet moving along the concrete, then to the hem of his green corduroy pants. Where his calves and knees met was clear because of all the muscular shaping they earned from the track team at school, but although he was strong and his muscles were certainly there, he was still lanky and thin. His thighs did not touch, making him almost appear like a scene-kid on some Ska CD cover. Finally Stan's eyes met the bottom of his best friend, but instead of the repulse he was positive he would feel wash over him, he was intrigued. He examined the small crease between his thighs and bum; where the corduroy lines curved in a little hump and crawled upward. The lines hugged Kyle's form, tightly wrapping around the small, but full hill of Kyle's end. Either side of the pants lifted or fell slightly as either leg lifted or strode, becoming tight and loose around his cheeks in intervals. Stan admired the perfectly rounded shape and short distance from his thigh; his face flooded scarlet as he realized: Oh, God…Kye…has a…cute butt…

He gave himself a mental shake and finally spoke up, "Uh…it's fine, Kye…"

Kyle turned to him and Stan found himself stuck staring at that small crease that rotated as Kyle's hips swiveled. The cute bump was surely hypnotizing him, forcing him to stare;

"F-fine? What does that mean? Was Cartman right? Do I have nothing there? Am I like a flat board?" Kyle interrogated.

"Uhm…" Stan trailed; too distracted to respond.

Kyle looked behind him, spotting nothing interesting he asked, "What are you looking at, dude?"

Stan literally shook his head and stuttered, "W-what? N-nothing…"

Kyle stepped toward him and clutched his shoulders, shaking him and directing, "Dude, I can't have you zoning out on me like that! You've gotta snap out of it, this is a time of crisis! I need to know, is my ass acceptable?!"

"A-acceptable?!"

"Even satisfactory will do! I don't mind, really, I don't need to be Advanced Placement for everything! I just want to know…is my ass okay, Stan? Is it…is it good at all?" Kyle begged, embarrassed eyes pleading…

Stan sighed, trying to drain the blood from his face as he replied, "It's…it's good, Kye…it's great."

Kyle flustered, "Great?"

"Y-yeah…I'm…uh…kind of jealous, dude…" Stan told him honestly.

Kyle chuckled, "You're funny."

"Funny?"

"Yeah. You can always make me laugh."

Stan smirked, "Well, I wouldn't call this your most desperate hour, dude."

Kyle let go of Stan and moved back to his side, walking with him again. Stan's eyes kept trying to travel to Kyle's back-side, kept trying to sneak a peek at the curve of the small of his back onto that perfect, small hill. Kyle suddenly spoke, shocking Stan and forcing him to instantaneously snap his eyes forward;

"Hey, Stan…Wendy's over there…"

Stan looked to her; he had grown to really dislike Wendy Testaburger. Sure, she was a nice piece of ass, but other than that she was snobby and self-centered. She seemed like a lifeless puppet when she wasn't the center of attention. Stan sighed and groaned, "Why do you still tell me that whenever you see her?"

Kyle rubbernecked to stare at the girl gabbing to her friends across two blocks as he replied, "Dunno…guess it's instinct."

Stan stopped in mid-walk and turned to Kyle, "Hey…Kye…we're going to my house…and getting…water balloons."

"Uhm…why?"

Stan grinned viciously, "Because I hate preps."


	2. Brown Eyed Girl

**Hey guys, I'm so so so so so so sorry about the delay! I'm gonna see if I might be able to write another chapter tonight. Thank you all who sent me PMs and reviews, they're all incredibly appreciated. Hope you like your latest chapter.**

"Do you boys realize what you've done to those poor girls?!" The principle snarled.

Kyle and Stan had to stop themselves from chuckling; they'd given Wendy and her preppy friend a nice case of pneumonia from dropping twelve water balloons from the roof of another house. Kyle and Stan remained silent, though soundlessly enjoying themselves in the trouble they stirred; they were young, rebellious boys after all, with all of their hormones telling them they've got everything to prove. They wanted to burst into laughter, but contained themselves…

"Well…there has to be some repercussion." The principle announced to their parents.

Stan groaned, his humor fading, "What? Can't you just let us off the hook this time? I promise we'll be good, it was just a prank."

Kyle backed him up, "Yeah! We don't need punishment, it was only a joke!"

The principle shook her head and replied, "No, boys. After that whole chocolate cake fiasco earlier this year I simply can't let you boys go without any punishment."

They both moaned in unison, dreading the detention ahead. The principle looked to their parents and suggested, "How about community service? Like…cleaning the parks for seventy hours, or…helping build someone a home, huh?"

Stan and Kyle rolled their eyes, until the vice principle stated,

"Well, the drama group needs new members, they haven't casted many roles yet…if they help in the school play, then I suppose we could let them be."

Kyle and Stan's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as they shot up straight with mouths agape. Kyle fought, "N-No! No way!"

His mother told him in her ice cold Jewish accent, "Now, Kyle Broflovski, you know you've got theatrical talent, you get it from your father and your grandmother, you know that. That sounds wonderful, Kyle hasn't been involved in much this year anyway and being a freshman it's important."

Kyle's face went pale as Stan turned to his parents and rebelled, "Mom! Dad!"

"Sorry, Stan, but…it really does sound like the easiest escape." Replied his father.

The principle smiled, "So it's settled then. You boys help the drama group until the show, and you're officially excused of this nasty incident. As if it never happened."

The boys looked to each other as their parents rejoiced; their eyes met in horror as both of them whispered simultaneously, "Don't tell Cartman."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Welcome to the drama group, kids. I'm Mrs. Herit, and our assistant-teacher is not here today, but when you meet her, her name is Ms. Thrunton. Well, we'd like to start auditioning the boys, so if you'd all line up outside the room and come in, in an orderly fashion, we can get started."

Stan and Kyle had stayed after school for this? This middle-aged high school teacher who clearly had issues 'not' smiling; her face seemed to be stuck in an ear-to-ear grin with her eyes scrunched up behind her risen cheeks. She was very thin, almost boney. Stan looked to Kyle as he rose and looked at his bottom again; this time, without the request of doing so. The perfect bump made Stan nervous. He couldn't place why, really, it made him anxious and scared. Scared; he was scared of Kyle catching him.

"Dude?" Kyle asked casually when he realized Stan wasn't walking beside him.

Stan quickly averted his eyes as Kyle turned around with his colgate-smile and implored, "You coming?"

Stan grunted, "I fucking hate high school."

"I know, I know."

"What does orderly fashion even mean?"

Kyle perked a brow as Stan rose and caught up to him. Stan explained, "I mean…what other fashion would we try first? Do they think we would try the running-around-screaming-and-throwing-our-feces-at-each-other fashion? Aren't adolescents just as evolved as Ms. Zoloft over there?"

Kyle laughed and nodded, "You're funny, Stan. You're right, though. I didn't think you believed in evolution, though?"

Stan moved his eyes to the side of his friend's visage, desperately fighting the urge to look to the boy's backside for whatever strange reason. He muttered in response, "My parents don't want me to, but it all makes sense. I mean…it all makes sense. What about you?"

Kyle simpered, "Well, I believe in evolution too. You know, matter can't be destroyed, it can only change form, so there's no such thing as there once being 'nothingness', there 'always' has to be 'something' there. I mean, we were eggs once, we didn't just form from nowhere."

Stan grinned; Kyle was so brilliant and spoke so easily, so lucid for Stan to understand. His friend was so very charming. He wondered if Kyle knew that about himself. Rather than that compliment, though, Stan snorted,

"Fuckin' nerd."

Kyle chuckled, "Fuck you."

They stood next to each other against the light-blue tiled wall, towards the back of the line. Stan stood in front of Kyle, fully aware that Kyle wanted to avoid the audition for as long as possible. They were dreading their theatrical, agonizingly feminine future as the line began moving forward. Kyle sighed as a boy came and stood next to him. Kyle did not acknowledge his existence for a long moment, then the boy breathed in deeply before announcing his appearance as he very shyly asked Kyle,

"Uhm…you're not…you're not Damian Kulash, are you?"

Kyle turned to the brunette and inquired with enthusiasm, "You listen to OK GO? That's so cool! No one else I know listens to them!"

The boy's fluster died out as he chuckled, "Ah, good, you're not him! I thought you were for a minute and I got so nervous."

Kyle laughed, "Why would Damian Kulash be at a high school drama meeting?"

The other boy seemed to ponder on that, then smiled with a shrug of his shoulders, "Heh, I dunno!"

After Kyle chuckled in a friendly voice again he added, "Not to mention Damian Kulash was voted like…most good-looking in his generation of musical artists."

The brunette's big eyes opened from the laughing close they were tightened in as he told Kyle, "That's why I thought you were him."

Stan saw the blood fill up in Kyle's cheeks. Stan's brain spat, _Oh no…the theater gays…_

Stan cut in abruptly before Kyle began with his I've-just-been-hit-on-now-I'm-incredibly-nervous-awkward stuttering, asking, "Who are you?"

The boy replied, "I'm Adam Liever."

Stan cocked a brow and interviewed, "So you've been in the drama group before, I take it?"

"Why do you say that?"

Stan smirked angrily, "Well, you're nosing your way into our conversations like you're King of the Hill, so I take it you've got some delusion that you're a 'somebody'."

The boy smiled evilly, "For your information, I've been in theater since I was a young boy, so I'm comfortable. You've got a problem with people enjoying theater?"

"Oh," Stan began, "I don't think you're in it for the theater, boy-oh."

Kyle's eyes sharply flashed open at the charcoal-haired boy as he snapped, "Stan! Stop!"

Kyle's fiery curls twirled behind him as he looked to Adam and begged, "I am so sorry, Adam, I don't know, I mean…I wasn't…he didn't-''

Adam waved it off with a smile and told Kyle, "Oh, no, it's not a problem. I've dealt with people like him before, trapped in little bubbles of ignorance and prejudice. In any case, I'm much more concerned with learning your name."

Kyle flustered as Stan made a "tch" sound and responded bashfully, "O-oh, I'm Kyle. Kyle Broflovski."

Adam smiled kindly and shook Kyle's hand, telling him gently, "Welcome to the group. You looked kind of nervous, so I figured I should strike up some conversation with you. Are you worried?"

Kyle dropped his hand and told him, "Well, you know, it's weird doing this. I've never really…done the school drama or anything…I know if my other friends found out, I'd be…ehm…"

"Ridiculed?" Adam asked.

"Yeah. Not to mention I don't really know anyone here, 'cept Stan."

Adam placed a friendly hand on Kyle's shoulder, reminding him, "Well, consider us partners in crime, then."

Stan glared to Adam and shot, "Sorry, Fruity Freddy, the much-adored and praised partner-in-crime position has already been filled by yours truly."

Adam smirked, "Very well." He looked back to Kyle and finished, "Then just know that if you need help or anything, you've got a mature, open-minded friend in me."

Stan snorted out some profanity under his breath and looked away again, crossing his arms. Kyle shot a troubled look to Stan, then looked back to Adam, replying softly, "Thank you."

By the time Stan was going to make a rude remark, the doors opened in front of him and a blonde boy told him it was his turn to go in. Adam stepped forward, though, and announced, "I'll go, it's okay. I know you guys are nervous."

Kyle grinned, "Thanks."

Adam smiled to him almost slyly, murmuring dangerously, "Just pay me back later, Kyle."

With that he walked into the room, closing the two doors behind him. Stan whipped around and glowered at Kyle, snarling, "What the fuck was that about?!"

Kyle's wide eyes shining emerald beseeched him, "What's wrong with you?"

Stan huffed, "Why didn't you back me up?"

Kyle looked to his friend accusingly, "What are you talking about? He was being really nice!"

"Cause he wants to get in your pants!" Stan barked.

"Not all gay guys are walking around looking to fuck, Stan, that's fucked up of you to say!"

Stan snorted, "And how would you know that?"

"Cause they're people too, you fucktard!"

They shot angry eyes to each other for a long moment before Stan turned his back and mumbled some incoherent apology. Kyle crossed his arms, resting his back against the wall.

_What the hell was that about?_


	3. Conceited, I Got a Reason

**Wow, I suck, I know XP I'll update faster, I SWEAR, I've just had so much work as of late TT**

**Thank you all so much for all PMs and reviews so far! Thank you thank you thank you!!**

"Well, well!" chirped Mrs. Herit, she continued, "We've made our decisions for the cast!"

Kyle looked to Stan with something a lot like a glare as they sat down with a huff. Kyle muttered, "I don't think…I've ever been degraded in such a way before."

"What about that time Cartman made you suck his balls?"

Kyle glowered, "That wasn't even me. That was a sick export of Cartman's twisted fantasies."

"What about that time Cartman filled all of your underwear with peanut butter and you were too tired to notice in the morning and went to school with all those dogs and squirrels following you?"

"No one was even at school to see it; remember that flu epidemic that year?" Kyle replied shortly.

"What about that time Cartman told all the second-graders that you wanted to put your tongue inside them?"

Kyle chuckled darkly, "They were all told by the principle at the beginning of the year to never trust a thing Cartman says."

"What about that time Cartman-''

"Stan…"

"Yeah?"

"Enough."

"Kay."

Adam sat beside Kyle and implored, "So, how do you think you did?"

Kyle sighed, muttering, "Ugh…I guess I did fine. I mean, I've read Romeo and Juliet before, so the passages were easy enough to reci—''

"Romeo Montague, Kyle Broflovski."

Kyle's eyes shot wide open as his face pinked and he jet out of his chair, retrieving his personal script as the group applauded. When he sat back down, Stan and him stared at each other in amazement as Kyle uttered, "Kick ass."

"I thought this play was going to be the most degrading event of your life?" Stan quizzed.

"Not if I'm a hot romantic who gets to stab guys."

Stan glared jokingly, "You never cease to amaze me, Kye."

"I know; there's no amount of gloating that can do justice to just how awesome I am."

"You're just too charming, you know that?" Stan teased.

Kyle chuckled as Tybalt was assigned as well as Lady Capulet, Benvolio, Friar Larence and the narrator. Very suddenly Mrs. Herit's voice pierced through as she called, "Stan Marsh…"

When they made eye-contact, she announced, "Mercutio Montague."

Stan grinned and performed some type of a secret-handshake with Kyle before rising and taking his script. A few other roles were called out before she finished, "Adam Liever…"

He rose, the moment he took the script she finished, "Juliet Capulet."

Kyle turned a strawberry red as Stan's face shrank back in horror. Adam smiled to Kyle, murmuring, "Lucky me."

Kyle must have heard it the mumble, though, and it was more than likely that steam was billowing out of his ears and nose. Stan looked to Kyle told him,

"If he bothers you, tell me."

Kyle perked a brow, "Oh, I can't defend myself?"

"Duh, I'm way tougher than you."

"Are not!" Kyle shot.

"As if, Kye, you're thin, fragile and pale with big eyes, not to mention you're shorter than me."

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall."

"That's a metaphor for egos."

"Seems to fit either bill when it comes to you, Stan." Kyle joked.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"How did it go, Stanley?" Mrs. Marsh pondered aloud as they sat at dinner.

Stan looked up to her from beneath his ivory bang, his ocean blue eyes appearing dull and bothered. He told her simply, "It was okay, I guess."

"What did you guys do?"

"They assigned roles."

His mother's features lit up enthusiastically as she interviewed, "Yeah? What role did you get?"

"Mercutio."

She finished swallowing her food before widening her eyes and telling him, "That's great, Stan! You've got such a fun role!"

Stan snorted a laugh, "Fun? Playing an egotistical side-kick with a sex-god complex? Somehow it's not so appealing."

She sighed and asked, "What role did Kyle get?"

Stan took another bite, pronouncing distinctly, "Romeo."

"Wow!" Sharon exclaimed, "That's great! Did you hear his audition? Was he very good?"

Stan looked away, "I didn't hear a thing, I wasn't in the room."

"Wow, you'll have to keep us updated on how he does! Aw, best friends playing best friends…"

"How poetic." His father finished.

"Yeah, whatever." Stan slurred under his breath.

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

"Thank God it's Friday." Stan mumbled as he and Kyle walked out of the school building.

"Yeah." Kyle breathed; just as tired.

"You wanna go play guitar hero at my house?" Stan offered eagerly.

"Sorry," Kyle began, "I can't. I've got work."

"Work?!" Stan complained.

"Sorry, dude, but I have to go. You wanna come? I could make you a seriously amazing sundae."

Stan contemplated this option for a moment before shrugging, "Eh, alright."

"Jesus, Stan, curb your enthusiasm. It's supposed to be awesome having a friend who works at the icecream parlor. You know they're mad picky about the people they hire, you're supposed to want to come to work with me every day."

Stan rolled his eyes as the passed the bus stop, "Ugh…you sound like Wendy, stop complaining, I'm going, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but the point is that I want you to 'want' to go." Kyle pressed.

Stan looked away, catching Kyle's attention. Kyle looked to him and asked softly,

"Hey…dude, are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Stan replied in a snarky kind of attitude.

Kyle was taken aback as Stan felt a twitch of guilt in his gut. Kyle implored, "You just seem…kind of…uhm…angry with me?"

"It's not you, don't worry."

Kyle told him, "Doesn't matter if it's me or not. You're my best friend, Stan and I wouldn't be able to move onto the next day if I didn't have you."

Stan looked to Kyle with round, shocked eyes as Kyle continued, "So when you're sad, it makes me worry. I want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to fix it for you, because I care about you being happy. I want you to be happy."

Stan smiled weakly, "Kye…thanks, dude. That's…uhm…sweet."

Kyle simpered, responding kindly, "It's the truth; don't thank me for what you should know is true."

Stan looked away bashfully, "Well…it's that Adam kid…"

Kyle chuckled, "I had a feeling."

Stan blushed slightly, "It's just…he makes me so angry…"

He felt Kyle's hand curl around his shoulder as his silky smooth voice wafted by him, explaining, "He could never take your place. No one ever could."

Stan looked to his best friend; they had stopped walking and were connected by Kyle's friendly hand on his shoulder. Kyle told him, "You are the most important person to me, Stan. No Adam-kid could ever take me away, okay?"

Stan blushed, his eyes shimmering with some emotion that made his knees weak. He stared into Kyle's brilliant, emerald eyes and told him, "…thank you, Kye."

Kyle smirked, "Don't thank me. But you're welcome."

Stan nodded, speechless otherwise. Strangely, he found himself lost in his friend's eyes. They were hypnotizing him and he couldn't place why…

"I don't…uhm…my head can't…uh…"

Kyle laughed again, beginning to walk again as he told him, "I think it's funny when you're possessive about me, Stan. It's flattering."

Stan snorted, snapping his senses and brain back into action, "Tch-yeah, don't get an ego about it."

Kyle smiled, although Stan could not see it as he chirped, "Oh, I will."


	4. The Candy Man Can

**Really short; sorry for being so late with updating, I'll be updating a lot faster now! Thank you all reviews and PMs it's SO SO SO SO SO appreciated! Thanks for all the support and patience!**

"Romeo and Juliet is said to be the most valuable piece of literature in the world, beside the Bible. Would anyone like to guess why?"

Stan snorted into consciousness, his head shot over from behind his chair because of Kyle's abrupt elbow in his ribs. Their teachers had been discussing the title of the play for what seemed hours and it had bored Stan to sleep. He watched as Kyle marked the air with his arm and heard his name called. Stan knew what was about to happen; Kyle had a formula to his genius. He would answer any question in a full sentence in which he would alter one word to make his answer somewhat different , as he did; "Romeo and Juliet is said to be the most valued piece of literature in the world beside the Bible-"

Then he would state his opinion in two different ways, the first being forward and to the point while the second fashion would describe his answer with more description and normally it would have a bit of a philosophical taste to it.

"-because it is human behavior at its best. Human behavior, as in our imperfections and troublesome emotions, it really illustrates what makes us; humanity, while also portraying…our lack thereof."

After his flavorful explanation he would repeat the question, reworded a bit more with a conclusion that would make his male teachers hand him homework-passes and give female teachers full-on heart attacks;

"Romeo and Juliet is so very valuable to the world because it is a rare delicacy, it's a taste of reality that most authors refuse to write about because of humans' harsh nature and idiotic conflict. They would like to believe in fantasies where the princess marries the prince in his enormous, flashy castle while Shakespeare insisted that humans were beautifully imperfect and conveyed our wondrous error and fault in a poetic and ironic faze of love. Love brings everyone together in fairytales, but in the majestic ugliness of pure, unadulterated human nature love tears the main characters apart."

Finally, his finishing line leaving a heavy and meaningful silence in any room as it always did; "Romeo and Juliet is rightfully treasured in this world and will be honored for Eons, unless by some shining miracle, humans find some way to forgive and love like The Lord, himself, intended."

Stan smirked; it always worked. The two female teachers sitting on the edge of the stage looked like they might have kicked the bucket that moment. Both jaws were dropped; clearly they did not know the blinding perfection that Kyle Broflovski was. Stan chuckled inaudibly as Kyle smiled to him; he was perfect after all. Stan was never envious or aggravated by his friend's blemish-free existence. He was proud of it, actually; gloating about it in his head as he had been doing. It was such a wonderful thing to behold and he could never and would never ask Kyle to change. The perfect student, perfect employee, perfect son, perfect boy, perfect enemy, perfect friend…

Never at fault, never wrong, never graceless or disheveled. Every hair was always in place, every smile was sincere, every laugh was snort-free, ever muscle was perfectly carved, his face always clear and clean, his fragrance was constantly intoxicating, his moods were mature and under control…

"Tha…th-that was wonderful, Kyle. Thank you for that lovely explanation…w-well, as Kyle was saying…"

She droned on as Kyle looked to his charcoal-haired friend and muttered, "Good, eh?"

Stan laughed softly again, "As always; forgive and love like The Lord himself intended? A bit of a high-set ambition for high school students, no?"

Kyle stated simply, "You've got it down."

Stan perked a brow, "…what?"

Kyle repeated with a more gentle smile, "I think you're divinely humane."

Stan blushed lightly, "…dude…"

(FLASH-BACK TO THE DAY PRIOR)

Kyle was twisting the whipped cream on Stan's order of pistachio ice cream and after dropping a cartoon-mouthwatering cherry on the very top he passed it to him. Stan admired the bleach white of Kyle's barely manly apron and matching, small hat that sat in a mountain range of Kyle's silky red curls. A few younger girls walked in, ringing the tiny bell at the entrance and immediately walked up to Kyle, giggling and blushing. Almost right after he was hired at the ice cream parlor, Kyle had developed a fan base that began at the elementary school and ended at the seniors of rivaling schools! Girls seemed to flock from all corners of the world to watch him roll up his collared-white shirt sleeves to his elbows, adore him while he juggles cream cans to give them a laugh and Stan was shocked at the speed they would race to him of only to hear him ask, "And what can I do for you, pretty lady?"

It was ridiculous to Stan; the boy was just an ice cream bartender and he got fan groups, a heavy salary and his own catch phrases! Of course, though…he was perfect.

"C-can I have a vanilla smoothie, please?"

Kyle smirked, leaning forward and inches away from the furiously blushing face of the girl while his smug look rested in his palm, "What do I get in return?"

The girl was from the middle school; probably about eleven years old and Stan was wondering why Kyle was outwardly flirting with such a young girl. Her friends giggled, one nearly fainting as she stammered, "U-uhm…money?"

Kyle looked like he considered it for a minute, but after humming in discontent he smiled and replied, "How about if I get a kiss right here," He pointed to his freckled cheek, "it'll be on me."

She looked about ready to die as she squeaked, "O-oh gee...o-okay."

He grinned and danced to the song playing on the speakers around the parlor; once he finished her smoothie with that shiny cherry at the very tip of whipped cream again, he stretched a bit over the bent, silver bar. He pointed to the same spot as before and told her, "Now give me a sugary-sweet one right here."

Her friends laughed again, red in the face just like her as she leaned over and kiss the ordered spot. She smiled shyly as his grin spread from ear to ear and he "Mmmm-mmm!"ed and told her, "So sweet, I think you've given me a toothache!"

He could tell her head was filled with blood and probably fearing she would lose feeling in all her limbs, he told her, "Now go off and enjoy your sweets, princess."

She raced off with her friends, gossiping and laughing hysterically the whole way to their booth. Stan looked to him and told him, "A bit more forward than you usually are, you ass."

Kyle just laughed while he cleaned out a bowl with a white towel that he kept the back pocket of his black dress-pants, "You're just jealous that I don't give you free shit cause you're pretty."

Stan scoffed, "I'm sure. But can I ask why you're interested in a girl that age?"

Kyle shrugged, "I'm not looking for a date. She lives on my block and I know that her parents…well, they're not exactly millionaires. I heard her talking to her friends, and I happen to know that she should be using that money at school for lunch. I don't plan on making her pay for anything here. She's a young lady who deserves three meals a day, and of course," Kyle licked at a bit of ice cream that had found its way to his index finger and with a smack of his lips he finished, "the occasional, but traditional, mouthwatering dessert to savor."

(END OF FLASH-BACK)

Stan wasn't divine; no, Kyle was. He was a little girl's secret guardian angel; he gave without a thought of receiving anything in return. He was a delicacy, he should be treasured and honored for Eons; he was the shining angel of Stan's life, a product of society was perfect humanity at its prime; beauty, love and kindness. A combination of everything wonderful and lip-smacking sweet.

Unfortunately all Stan could summon from his voice in response was, "Thank you."


	5. I Taste Just Like Candy

**TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE NIGHT? **

**DLM, YOU'RE MAD!**

**MAD YOU SAY? MAD WITH POWER!! MUAH HA HA HA!**

…**but seriously, you guys deserve it. Again, thanks to all reviews/PMs and all. It's all so appreciated. It's a bit longer this one, hope you guys like it. :D**

"Wake up, sleeping beauty."

"mamrhgmarnghmeh" Stan replied from beneath his arms.

"…what?"

Stan flicked his head so that his ebony bang would move out of his vision, but it fell back into place as he glared to his red-headed friend. That was the plan, anyway. What actually happened was that Stan, having fallen asleep during lunch while his friend was on a trip to his locker, took on the graceful looking slouch of an in-school sleeper. A back curved like Notre Dame, face hidden in a normally wrinkled jacket and an expression much like one received when hit at point-blank range by a speeding truck on the freeway. With the stereotypical signs of an in-school sleeper which were essentially all signs but ones of life, he was sluggish and incoherent in his responses to outside events. As he had picked up his head, his brain functioning at an alarmingly slow rate, he stopped to notice that tight bubble located on the lower backside of his best friend that had caught his eye the past week or so. The beautiful little hill was planted firmly on the table, eventually spelling out to Stan that he was sitting directly in front of him, although a bit to his right. The raven-haired boy finally looked all the way to his best friend, but forgot to scowl; having been oddly calmed by the appearance of that mind-infiltrating device by the small of his back.

"Tired…I'm effing tired. Why did they have the effing stupid rehersal go on so long? I got home and did homework until like…one in the effing morning."

Kyle frowned, "You're censoring yourself; it must've taken a lot out of you."

"You're damn right it took a lot out of me."

Kyle smiled again and with his signature grace and speed he swiftly changed his position and sat himself on the bench across from Stan. He was grinning cutely and sang, "Stannnn…"

The dark-haired boy cocked a brow, his eyes dangerously low; "…what?"

Kyle was rocking back and forth with a dumb look of anticipation on his face, "What if I made you something delicious? Would that make you feel better?"

Stan looked to his sides suspiciously, "…uhm…I don't know…"

Kyle immediately reached into his book-bag and retrieved a small, perfectly square lunch box. He opened it to Stan and inside there were small sections separated by plastic walls. One section seemed to have about three under-cooked chocolate chip cookies, a second section had a handful of Hershey Kisses while a third section had two bags of Runts candies. A fourth section was long and ran along the side of the container and it held over five ropes of blue and pink Twizzlers, another section had about six or seven Crème Savors while the middle and final container produced a tiny, but perfect vanilla cupcake. It was a funfetti cupcake, besides the spots of rainbow it was white like Christmas morning while the icing was just shy of sky blue; the barely visible shade of indigo was so enticing as it was topped with that irresistible, shiny, perfect cherry. He looked to his friend and inquired,

"…did you bring this for me?"

Kyle smiled wide, "Depends; do you like it?"

"I love it…"

The red-head chuckled, "Well, go ahead, have some, I stayed up all night organizing this."

Stan reached over and took the cupcake that had so caught his fancy. He looked to his best friend and implored, "Why did you do this?"

The Jew looked away as he replied, "Well I knew you hated drama, I knew you had put off your homework and would probably be up all night. You always forget your money for lunch when you haven't gotten enough sleep and when you're so groggy you get grumpy and end up having a terrible day. I knew you'd come into school aggravated, having probably noticed you left your money half way down Maple Street which is close to your house, but still too far to walk back without being late to first period. I knew you'd be too proud to ask for a loan from anyone and with sugar being such a kick-start for energy and me, having it so available to me at the parlor, I figured I'd put it in this little bento-box for you to carry around with you until you get home and have something healthy. I hoped it would keep you awake and content."

Stan had only eaten the cherry, having been so focused on listening to Kyle's flattering explanation. Stan finally decided to release his voice again and insisted,

"…so…you…you did this…because…"

"Because I want you to be happy."

"_So when you're sad, it makes me worry. I want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to fix it for you, because I care about you being happy. I want you to be happy."_

Stan simpered, blushing lightly.

Kyle wondered what kind of reaction Stanley Marsh would have to such a gesture; after all, this was a very intimate kind of situation. Kyle knew the boy better than anyone in South Park, and it was usually a girlfriend who made her boyfriend something cute like this. Kyle was humbled by the reaction, actually; 

the handsome Stanley Marsh was staring at him like a saint, his eyes were glazed with thanks and tire, his cheeks only just noticeably flustered while his smile was slanted and endearing. Kyle thought himself humbled by the moment on Stan's flawless face, because rather than wanting to gloat about how he's the best friend in the relationship, how he's so observant and helpful…well…it seemed when Kyle thought those emotions would rise up, they didn't. They were silenced by this overwhelming happiness to see Stan smile. Stan wouldn't need to say 'Thank you', or 'You're the best' or try to kiss up in any way, shape or form because Kyle found himself showered in pride and contentment in Stan's simple, elementary grin.

"You're amazing."

Kyle couldn't help the blood that rushed to his face before stuttering, "W-what?"

Stan had apparently eaten half of the heavenly cupcake while Kyle was deep in thought, his tongue was reaching around his plumpish lips to retrieve a misplaced spot of blue sugar before he responded calmly, "You're just amazing, Kye. You keep all your work organized and top of the class, your room's always spotless just like your clothes, you've got a job, you look out for your little brother, take care of your parents and all the crap they trail behind them, you're an any-hour-of-the-day best friend and you still find time to think about…making sure I'm happy during class…you just take my breath away sometimes, Kye. You're just…like…untouchable."

Untouchable; that was the word to describe him. He was an untainted, untarnished, breath-taking, heart-racing temple of utter, clean-cut, unmistaken, unadulterated perfection. There was nothing Kyle couldn't do; nothing Kyle couldn't handle. Stan thought him to be some coach on the football field with a plan bigger, so much bigger than all of them. He's got a bigger plan than everything and anything in this dump they called South Park. Something told Stan, he was in control. Now that was something to behold.

"T-thank you, Stan."

Kyle looked away, trying to bleach the red that had stained his face; why had that happened, anyway? His friend was only complimenting him, after all; and hadn't Kyle just been thinking about how Stan should praise him? Unbeknownst to Kyle, Stan was smirking with light blue icing between his lips when he repeated words of his friend to him;

"Don't thank me for what you should know is true…"

Kyle looked to him with wide eyes…

Stan just smiled boyishly, "But you're welcome."

Had Kyle's heart just skipped a beat? Yes. Yes it had.

Kyle trusted Stan, and Kyle knew that Stan trusted him. They would take a bullet for each other, they'd climb any mountain, fight any battle and they'd do it with a smile and skip in their step. This simple fact, 

this silent truth between them, that they would do absolutely anything for each other was a nature to them, a give in, so why was it that Kyle was so shocked? It was the fact that Stan listened to him. It didn't just go through one ear and out the other. There was absorption, there was record, memory cells dedicated to understanding and recovering articles of Kyle's words. For whatever reason it meant the world to Kyle, making his heart thump and his lips twitch into a smile and Kyle was quite sure from that moment that he would do anything to keep Stan listening.

Stan sighed deeply, gratefully as he finished the cupcake. He looked to Kyle; appearing to his friend like a bedroom-eyed PlayGirl star having just arrived from filming his latest dirty flick. Stan smiled, already seeming a bit more lively as he told him, "That was fucking delicious."

"Hey, you're not censored anymore; feeling better I guess. I'm glad you liked it."

Stan chuckled, "No, dude…I didn't just like that cupcake…I loved it. Like…if I could have babies with a cupcake…like…no. Dude, I would kill a baby to re-have that cupcake. That was fucking amazing."

Kyle laughed, "There's something terribly wrong with you."

Stan reached forward, grabbing one of the undercooked chocolate chip cookies as he responded in defense, "Well, like…I baby I don't know. It's not like I'd kill a baby I knew."

Kyle laughed harder, "You're fucking evil. It doesn't matter if you know the baby or not, it's not okay to kill babies!"

Stan bit into the melty cookie, his eyes widened and he looked to his red-headed friend. He savored the taste and swallowed it slowly before asking lowly, "…did you make these cookies this morning?"

"They're still warm, eh? Yeah, I did."

Stan slumped back a little bit, eyeing his friend, "…how early did you get up this morning?"

"About five. Why?"

"You got up at five A-M to make me cookies?" Stan interrogated.

A small quiet fell upon them, the only noises erupting from the other students in the cafeteria, but all those voices mixed together and no timing at all, you could never tell what they were saying. Kyle didn't speak for a while, just munched on another one of the cookies. He finished it painfully slowly before finally answering his friend,

"Yeah. I guess I did."

Stan's heart started thumping; it sometimes did that nowadays. Stan blamed it on his body acting up in its desperate attempt at adolescence, but sometimes doubted that. His blue eyes fell on Kyle's lips and noticed by the very corner there was a spot of chocolate. Kyle was talking again, but Stan had muted the boy somehow. He was transfixed on that brown little spot by the corner of Kyle's lips. His brain still not completely in function, the sugar-rush giving him a strange high, he didn't even feel himself stand up. 

His legs straightened so that his torso could reach across the table, his hands took hold of his friend's jaw-line as his mouth grew closer to the Jew's until finally he was close enough to unleash his tongue across the thick flesh of Kyle's lips. His tongue tasted the delightful sugar again and his lips closed around the corner of his mouth, lightly sucking at the flesh. Once he was sure all the chocolate was gone he moved away and kissed the boy, so hungrily, so lustfully and he was shocked to find the redhead kissing him in return.

The biggest shock, though, wasn't the kiss. The biggest shock was that Stan didn't feel himself stand up, because he hadn't. He hadn't moved, he hadn't spoken; Kyle was talking and had that bit of cookie on him and Stan…had daydreamt…daydreamt of kissing Kyle…

"…so I mean, afterwards I could still hang out, but other than that-"

Stan pointed to his own bottom lip where it met the top and muttered, "You've got a bit of chocolate here."

Kyle reached for the mirror image spot and took off the melted chocolate chip with his index finger and licked it off with a hum of content, "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem." Stan told him as nonchalantly as he could.

The bell rang and Kyle passed over the lunch box to the ebony-haired boy, telling him, "You can give it back to me later. Try and stay awake, dude."

With that, the track-star, any-hour-of-the-day friend, ice cream-celebrity, breath-taking cook, kind, angel of perfection dashed off to his next class, leaving his best friend in a fog of wonderment and thanks. A strange sensation, though; imagining a heated kiss between you and your best friend involuntarily. Stan shrugged,

"I seriously cannot function without sleep." He scolded himself; a scapegoat, perhaps, but for now all Stan wanted to think about was how he was going to be sneaking Hershey Kisses while still appearing enthralled by Ancient Roman Architecture.


	6. Feels Like Something's Happening to Me

**Making up for how long it's taken to update and whatnot I made a really long one for you guys. This chapter is a whopping ten pages! **

**NOTE, PLEASE READ THIS:**

**All Shakespeare quotes in this chapter were by memory, so if anyone knows a site where I can get them easily and correctly please PM me or leave it in a review. And if anyone spots a mistake in the sections that I quoted Macbeth or Romeo and Juliet please tell me! Thank you!**

"Two households both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

Stan yawned then felt something strange in his mouth. He quickly shut his mouth and looked to his best red-headed friend grinning beside him. The Jew chuckled softly, holding up his index finger and explaining, "My mother taught me to cover my mouth when yawning by tapping my tongue every time I didn't."

Stan scowled, "Butt-head."

Kyle just laughed while turning his attention back to the brunette they had grown to know as Patrick Lokia reciting the prologue of Romeo and Juliet.

"From forth the fatal loins of these two foes a pair of star-crossed lovers take their life; whole misadventured piteous overthrows do with their death bury their parents' strife."

"Now, Patrick," Mrs. Herit interrupted, "Annunciate while reading the opening passage. It's poetry, after all."

Patrick nodded as Stan yawned again, once he realized Kyle's head sharply turning to him he covered his mouth with his hand. Kyle smirked as Stan smiled from beneath his palm. They stared at each other for a very long moment before noticing their faces had sunken into serious, meaningful expressions. Their gaze held for this quiet while until Kyle made a very strange inquiry,

"Hey…can I…"

Stan examined Kyle's hand beginning to raise as he finished, "…touch you?"

Stan blushed, but still ignoring the murmur of Patrick's rhymes, told Kyle, "Uhm…yeah."

The ebony-haired boy watched, as if in slow motion, the hesitant levitation of Kyle's hand to the air before his face. Stan could feel the blood rising and boiling in his cheeks, his heart was pounding, his mouth felt dry and he didn't know why. His muscles were twitching in anticipation and there was this strange sensation running all down his body. Stan ordered focus onto his friend's hand again; the hand that for whatever reason Stan could not find, was giving him an inward seizure and driving him to the awkward state of a middle school girl with severe social anxiety. His hand was then so close that Stan's 

heart skipped a beat at the sight of it and he immediately closed his eyes on the moment that was the cue of physical contact with the boy's fingers. The connection never came, though.

"Dude?"

Stan looked to the Jew, mumbling, "What?"

"You gotta stop daydreaming all day. That's why you're failing Global."

Not again.

"Yeah, shut up, Brainiac."

"Not likely."

"If it isn't my Romeo." A voice suddenly came.

They turned to see their recent acquaintance, Adam Liever smiling flirtatiously to the redhead. Kyle, appearing as romantically retarded as usual, took the expression kindly and replied,

"What's up, Adam?"

Stan just glared as the brunette grinned and suggested, "Well, Mrs. Herit told us to run whatever scenes we wanted for now…I decided on the scene of your confession of undying love for me."

Kyle chuckled nervously before glancing to Stan, then responding politely, "Uhm, yeah, sure." Kyle's somewhat worried face looked to his friend and inquired, "You'll be okay, Stan?"

Oh, this was his chance. Stan was only moments away from bursting into flames when that troubling boy came by and Kyle had just given him an opening to intrude on time Adam hoped would be spent alone with Kyle. Like Hell Stan was going to let that happen; Kyle was too nice to deny anyone anything, after all. That was his angelic, perfect, humane error. Stan found that downfall to be most endearing, though.

"Actually, I think I'll join you two. Seeing as I wanted to rehearse some scenes with you anyway."

Kyle simpered and turned back to Adam, suggesting, "We should let him tag along, then."

Adam smiled back, but there was an anger and irritation built deep in his eyes as he turned a glare to Stan, replying, "Yes. I suppose we should."

Adam led the two to a separate section of the theater, backstage where there was a small room with five wooden chairs and a mirror running the length of the wall. There was a white table jutting out of the wall beneath the mirror, clearly set up for make-up and such; Stan figured it was safe to assume it was a dressing room. Adam twisted his seat around and planted himself on the backwards chair, Kyle sat down across from him while politely crossing his legs and Stan lifted himself onto the white table. Adam smiled to Kyle and requested,

"Was there a scene you wanted to rehearse first?"

Kyle quickly thumbed through the pages in his script and sighing he ultimately decided, "No. We can do the Orchard scene."

Adam nodded and flipped to the marked page as Kyle recited,

"But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.  
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief; that thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; her vestal livery is but sick and green  
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, oh, it is my love…" Kyle suddenly paused and finished, "Oh, that she…knew she were."

Stan noted the meaningful look in Kyle's eyes. He almost looked hurt and Stan was happy to know that Adam could never see it. He was pleased, feeling like he could see through a mask that no one else saw. There was a secret he could see; a secret he couldn't read, but seeing it was enough. He would ask later, but Kyle continued softly,

"She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it…I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head?  
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night." Stan watched the small twitch of Kyle's adam's apple, thought it cute and continued to listen to Kyle's poetic and balanced voice complete, "See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand…oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek…"

Stan blushed, recalling his prior daydream of Kyle reaching forward brushing his own cheek. Stan averted his eyes, trying to calm the beat of his heart as Adam's silence penetrated the comfort in the room. Kyle looked up from the script, having been waiting for Adam's line to arrive. He was met only with a wide-eyed stare as the brunette told him,

"That was…wonderful. I mean…it was…that was…you're just…"

"A natural." Stan interjected.

Kyle looked to his friend, meeting his ocean eyes with his jade as Stan repeated, "You're just amazing."

Stan appreciated the fluster that rose into Kyle's face and turned away again, feeling the return of his rapid heartbeat. Kyle looked away also, telling the charcoal-haired boy, "Uh, thanks."

Adam smiled, "Yeah. He's right. I would've said it myself, you just shocked me."

Kyle grinned to him, "Thanks."

The boy across from Kyle told him, "You know…I'll rehearse my lines in a little while…I think I'd like to hear more of yours…"

Both Stan and Kyle looked to Adam with surprise; such outward flattery wouldn't process in Kyle's mind. He was too nice, too shy, too romantically challenged. Stan glared; instincts were kicking in and protecting Kyle from embarrassment or worse—romance—was becoming an ever-growing concern.

"Well…okay, then…"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Ms. Thrunton…like…wants you."

Stan coughed a laugh, spitting out, "What?!"

Kyle chuckled, "No, I mean, like…I dunno, but I get the feeling she wanted you to be Romeo. I mean…Romeo didn't have red, wavy hair…ya know?"

Stan was about to object when Kyle continued, "Not to mention, the entire student body already has this conception that I'm a nerdy teacher's-pet, not a hot romantic."

Stan finally interrupted him, "Doesn't matter what misconception they have. They're wrong and you're gonna fucking blow them away. You're good at this shit, Kye. I mean…you're good at everything, but…you really…it really fit you."

"Well," Kyle began, "it wasn't without practice…I mean, I have read Shakespeare before. It's not like I'm entering this without any experience."

Stan cocked a brow as they turned the corner, "Really? You read that stuff?"

Kyle snorted, "That stuff? It's said to be-"

"The most valuable piece of literature besides the Bible, I know…but…you read it?"

Kyle looked to his feet on the pavement as he muttered, "Well…yeah…it's just so…it makes me…he makes me feel real…"

"What?"

Kyle shook his head, "Shakespeare…his writing just…it makes me feel something, you know? I get anxious, I get angry and I'm constantly being moved by his writing…it makes my heart sink and tingle and my stomach gets tight and my chest contracts and my head spins and I feel like I might cry, but I'm still smiling and I want to carry the feeling with me forever…"

Stan's eyes were wide, his friend finally looked to him and stated, "I dunno…I don't really expect you to…feel the way…I feel."

Stan immediately told the redhead, "No! I want to…I know I've felt that before…I don't…I don't know when and I can't…remember why or what was happening, but I know that feeling…maybe I've only seen 

it on T.V. or I've only read it or I've dreamt it or something stupid like that, but…if you…if you like it…I wanna like it."

Stan smiled to see Kyle's bewildered look, as Stan finished, "I want to…borrow some of the writing…or…something…please…"

Kyle stopped in his walking and faced Stan who was delayed in yielding by confusion, so was only two steps away. Kyle lurched forward and embraced the ebony-haired boy tightly. Stan was almost thrown back by the hug, but quickly returned it, closing his eyes in Kyle's sweet-smelling hair. Having Kyle so close was making his heart thump loud again, his hands wanted to cling a bit tighter, but he suppressed that strange desire and simply continued to hold. His lips were so close to Kyle's forehead, he was tempted to press them down in a parent-like kiss. The moment was torn from Stan's grip, though, as Kyle moved away and told him,

"I know it's retarded and whatever, but…I'm really glad that you're my best friend."

Stan flustered, smiling softly as he encouraged, "…super best friend."

Kyle laughed shortly, "Yeah. Super Best Friend."

They started walking again, but not a moment of silence passed before Kyle announced, "I think you should've been picked for Romeo."

Stan blushed; his mind was racing again. His heart was thumping, his stomach was twisting and he felt nervous. He had to tear away from this weird emotion that felt like drowning, but flying too and it was dark but bright too. He decided to reply, "I think you should've been picked for basketball."

Kyle grinned, "I can't play that game. Jews can run, though."

"And complain."

Stan laughed at the violent nudge he received from his right side as Kyle chuckled and cursed him. Stan shoved Kyle's shoulder as revenge and was attacked again after a moment of peace by a hand smacking the side of his head. Stan lightly slapped his friend's face, Kyle replied by tugging on his ear and in defense Stan reached down and squeezed the width of Kyle's waist, causing him to shriek girlishly and snap, "AH HA! NO! NO TICKLING, YOU DICK!"

Stan laughed manically as he took his hand away and muttered, "I'm not a dick, you're a dick."

"Am not! You're a dick!"

"You don't even have a dick."

Kyle's face turned a furious, but grinning red as he snarled, "What?!"

Stan laughed again, announcing, "Jews don't have dicks."

"I fuckin' have a dick, you dick!"

"Oh, you have one, then?" Stan teased.

"You're damn right I do! I'm fuckin' hung!" Kyle snapped.

Stan blushed; it was funny to him still. Stan knew he was the only one who could get Kyle worked up like that. It was a talent Stan was incredibly proud of. Kyle's voice suddenly broke the air again as he mumbled,

"Yeah…that's right, you…you stay quiet…you…fuckin'…anti-sematic prick."

Stan chuckled, "You're too easy to wind up."

"You're too…easy…to…fuckin'…whatever, I hate you."

Stan laughed again, "You're cool."

"You're a jerk." Kyle pouted, crossing his arms.

They crossed a street as Stan laughed, then heard Kyle speak again, but his words were blocked by the sound of rushing cars. Stan looked to the boy, asking, "What?"

"You should apologize."

Stan smirked, "I am so sorry, Kyle."

"Mean it."

Stan chuckled, "Why?"

"You hurt my feelings." Kyle chided jokingly.

Stan smirked again, "I'm sorry, Kye. I know you have a dick."

Kyle smiled with a glare and told him, "Damn right I do."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Kyle picked up five books from his shelf on the other side of his room. Stan found himself preoccupied with snooping through the small gadgets and gizmos on Kyle's desk. The desk was next to his unattached closet and it was separated from Kyle's bedside table by a small garbage pail, it was light blue and half full with balled-up loose-leaf. His bedside table had three drawers and a lamp that sat on top, two books, only one of them containing a bookmark that implied he had read far into it thus far. He had a middle-sized bed which was just shy of a queen-sized bed and another bedside table on the opposite side.

That was Stan's side of the bed when he slept over, but it had become common knowledge in the house. About a foot away from that bedside table was the window, always unlocked in case of emergency or in case Kyle's burglar-paranoia grew anymore. Sitting in the corner closest to the window was another case of drawers that played table to a fairly wide-screen television. There were three clocks on there with a few figurines that Kyle just couldn't seem to part with. There was one closet door beside that bureau and next to that were Kyle's shelves, overflowing with books. Under the shelves was his laundry basket, which was oddly color-coordinated with the months.

Kyle dedicated specific colored markers to mark up specific months on his calendar that hung to the left of his shelves. His OCD kept the entire room spotless and it made Stan feel at home. That was a give in, though, because whenever or wherever he was, if it was with Kyle, it always felt like home. That was another strange concept Stan was not willing to think on or try to process.

Kyle walked up to Stan and told him, "Here. There's a Midsummer Night's Dream, The Tempest, Hamlet and Macbeth. The fifth one is a book filled with his sonnets. On page twenty-four is The Rape of Lucrece which is…well, like most of his work, astonishing. In any case, that's all I'll give you for now. It's a lot of reading, so take your time, you can keep them as long as you like."

Stan beamed, "Thanks, dude. This is pretty awesome."

"I think it's pretty awesome that you're giving it a try. Tell me what you think, I'll be really anxious about your opinion."

The raven-haired athlete simpered, "Of course, dude. I'll start reading tonight…I'll uh…I'll talk to you tomorrow, then."

Kyle smiled sadly, "Uh…yeah. I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Stan waved him off and walked home in the slowly-cloaking night. He stared at the covers of the books, slipping them under and over each other over and over. They were still warm like Kyle's room and Kyle's smile and they smelled like him too. They smelled like the redwood of Kyle's polished shelves, they were in pristine condition, untarnished and seemingly untouched like Kyle's soul and Kyle's pride. They grabbed at Stan's intrigue like Kyle's stories and explanations while they were soft in his hands like Kyle's silky hair and Kyle's light, yet not pale skin. Stan wondered why Kyle was taking over his mind like he was. Every thought led back to Kyle, every word and action was Kyle, it was his smile and his shift and his laugh and his look. Every movie and book and song was Kyle's glance and mumble and breath. Somehow it was relaxing while it still worried Stan. He blamed it on fatigue.

Stan got to his house, entering quietly to hear his mother and father in the living room. They were drinking coffee and his mother was smiling at the story his father seemed to be telling. The television was on, but they were concentrated only on each other and that warmed Stan's heart. He grinned when his mother spotted him by the door, triggering his father to turn to him and welcome him home. Stan thought it appropriate to sit down and join their conversation for a while, they asked him about his day and asked where he was going out to so late. He explained how rehearsal ran a bit late and he walked 

home with Kyle to borrow the books they noticed. He told them how Kyle seemed born to play the role of Romeo and told them about how he didn't have homework and hoped to get some sleep. His mother asked where a lunch box had come from that she found in the dishwasher earlier that day. He explained that Kyle had brought him sweets from the parlor to ensure he wouldn't fall asleep in class. His mother liked that.

Once an hour and a half of talking had passed, Stan announced that he wanted to retire to his room and read until he fell asleep. His parents told him they liked the idea so he left them to their own affairs. He went into his room and sat on his bed, picking book at random.

_When shall we three meet again  
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?_

_When the hurlyburly's done,  
When the battle's lost and won._

_That will be ere the set of sun._

_Where the place?_

_Upon the heath._

_There to meet with Macbeth._

A silent hour passed and Stan was consumed…

_The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,  
And these are of them. Whither are they vanish'd?_

_Into the air; and what seem'd corporal melted  
As breath into the wind. Would they had stay'd!_

_Were such things here as we do speak about?  
Or have we eaten on the insane root  
That takes the reason prisoner?_

_Your children shall be kings._

_You shall be king._

The hours passed, the hours flew overcome with poetry…

_Who dares receive it other,  
As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar  
Upon his death?_

_I am settled, and bend up  
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat._

_Away, and mock the time with fairest show:  
False face must hide what the false heart doth know._

_How goes the night, boy?_

_The moon is down; I have not heard the clock._

_And she goes down at twelve._

_I take't, 'tis later, sir._

_Hold, take my sword. There's husbandry in heaven;  
Their candles are all out. Take thee that too.  
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me,  
And yet I would not sleep: merciful powers,  
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature  
Gives way to in repose!_

_Give me my sword.  
Who's there?_

_A friend._

Stan looked out his window and the sun was slowly rising. He looked down, realizing he had only ten pages remaining. He cursed himself for taking none of the hours offered to him this night for sleep and told himself he had to finish the story. The sunlight warmed the right side of his face as it broke through his open window and onto him…

_He's worth more sorrow,  
And that I'll spend for him._

_He's worth no more  
They say he parted well, and paid his score:  
And so, God be with him! Here comes newer comfort._

_Hail, king! for so thou art: behold, where stands  
The usurper's cursed head: the time is free:  
I see thee compass'd with thy kingdom's pearl,  
That speak my salutation in their minds;  
Whose voices I desire aloud with mine:  
Hail, King of Scotland!_

His eyes were heavy as lead and his hand was twitching with tire from holding to the book's spine for so many hours without waver.

_We shall not spend a large expense of time  
Before we reckon with your several loves,  
And make us even with you. My thanes and kinsmen,  
Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scotland  
In such an honour named. What's more to do,  
Which would be planted newly with the time,  
As calling home our exiled friends abroad  
_

_That fled the snares of watchful tyranny;  
Producing forth the cruel ministers  
Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,  
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands  
Took off her life; this, and what needful else  
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace,  
We will perform in measure, time and place:  
So, thanks to all at once and to each one,  
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone._

He closed the book and sighed. He couldn't form a word, a sound or bodily function. He had a feeling he wouldn't be going into school this morning. He smiled, hoping he wouldn't have to so that he could stay home and read more of Shakespeare's wonderful words.

**IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE TOP OF THE PAGE, PLEASE READ WHAT'S IN BOLD :D**


	7. Cause There's You and Me

**PLEASE READ THIS:**

**Again, this chapter has Shakespeare, but it's only by memory. If someone can give me a good site, please do! Hope you like the latest chapter; thank you all reviewers and PMers!! It's greatly, greatly appreciated!**

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_

_Thou art more lovely and more temperate:_

_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,_

_And summer's lease hath all too short a date:_

_Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,_

_And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;_

_And every fair from fair sometime declines,_

_By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;_

_But thy eternal summer shall not fade_

_Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;_

_Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,_

_When in eternal lines to time thou growest:_

_So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,_

_So long lives this and this gives life to thee._

Stan had been reading all day. He begged his mother, telling her sleep had evaded him all night and informed her that he had no tests or quizzes to take that day. She sighed and conceited, then left for work a few hours after his father left; his father left much earlier than anyone woke up. Stan was sitting on the couch, the television was on, but muted as he read. The books were piled around him and he took no breaks. When he finished one book he would take a moment to let it sink in, close his eyes and really appreciate the piece before grabbing the next book and flipping it open to the very first page to begin all over.

He had finished A Midsummer Night's Dream early that morning, Macbeth was completed the night prior, Othello was read and sitting beside the finished The Tempest on the cushion in front of Stan's bare feet. He had finished Hamlet only an hour ago and was indulging in straight poetry, having finished all the plays. Stan had to admit that the ancient writer was really something. The way all the words stringed along so gracefully and perfectly, every adjective melted hearts while the arguments wrenched at them, all of the beauty in every letter was mindboggling and Stan found himself obsessed. Stan felt some connection to it all, he felt some understanding and he knew how Kyle felt. He understood why people so loved the dead man for all of the error and fault he made stunning, ravishing and every confession elicited was somehow more twisting and fanciful than the last. Every love was so explicit and unique, delicate and wonderful, spiraling Stan into daydreams running up and down his back and through his hair, tickling his chest and giving him pins and needles at his feet.

Stan was reading contently when he heard the doorbell ring. He glanced at the door then to the page he was on; he was on the one hundred and fiftieth sonnet, meaning there were only four more for him to read. He was hesitant to leave the book, but assumed it might just be the mailman and assured himself he would be back to reading soon enough. He left to walk to the door, placing the book gingerly on the warm cushion he hadn't left for the past nine hours. He opened the door to find his redheaded friend standing there, a look of concern drawn on his face. Stan grinned,

"Dude! What are you doing here?"

Kyle's eyes were still curved sadly and Stan's face immediately dropped to a serious expression because of it. Kyle muttered, "What am I doing here? Dude…aren't you sick?"

"Sick?"

"You were out today," Kyle began, "I was worried about you."

Stan smirked, "Sorry, Kye, I stayed up all night reading Macbeth and ended up getting no sleep."

Kyle's brows rose as he offered, "Oh, would you like me to bake you something yummy to get rid of the grumpies?"

Stan would've snorted at the baby-talk, but was too enthusiastic about the writing. He gripped his friend's wrist that was decorated with a yellow Livestrong bracelet and a silver chain that had a plaque with his name "Kyle" on it in Hebrew. He dragged the boy inside and told him,

"Oh no, it's okay, Kye. I don't need anything, Mom made me breakfast before she left for work. What I want you to do is talk to me about Shakespeare. I wanna talk about A Midsummer Night's Dream and I have some questions about Othello and I want you to tell me what you thought of Macbeth because I absolutely loved it-"

Kyle interrupted suddenly, inquiring, "Whoa, slow down, dude…you read all this?"

Stan looked to the couch, then back to the boy as he agreed, "Yeah. I've got about four sonnets left to read."

Kyle's wide eyes looked at the books on the cushion, then back to his ebony-haired friend, laughing shortly, "That's sick, dude…I guess…I guess you liked them?"

"Liked them?!" Stan exclaimed, "I LOVED them! They were amazing! If I get some soda, you wanna hang out in here and talk about it?"

Kyle grinned and nodded positively, "Yeah, definitely."

Stan gave him two thumbs-up, picked up his jeans by the belt loops and turned to run through the kitchen. Kyle took his book-bag off his shoulder, slipping it over his head he laid it down by the side of the couch and sat in one of the armchairs that stood to the right of the couch. He picked up the blue hardcover book that in gold was titled "Othello" and ran his fingers over the spine. Stan ran back in, 

pulling at the hem of his collared dark blue polo shirt after handing Kyle a can of Diet Coke Zero. Kyle smiled as Stan sat down with a sigh, telling the boy opposite him, "They were amazing, Kyle. I've never read anything like it."

"I wasn't even sure you could read."

Stan glared jokingly as his friend chuckled, "Ha-Ha, very funny."

"I know, I crack myself up."

Stan rolled his eyes and continued, "But dude, this was…it was different…it was unlike anything…I mean, I've never been so inspired before."

Kyle tilted his head cutely, "What do you want to do with it?"

"With what?"

"Your inspiration."

Stan cocked a brow, "What do I want to do with it?"

Kyle rolled his eyes with a laugh, "Well duh! Dude, you've read five plays in the last twenty four hours, you've been translating middle English for an entire day, your bubbling with inspiration and you're just gonna sit on your couch?"

Stan looked away mumbling something incoherent along the lines of, "Well yeah…"

Kyle shook his head, insisting, "You can't just sit around and let it die out! That'd be silly…"

Stan looked to the boy again, on making eye-contact some great realization must have come to Kyle because it dawned all over his face. Kyle simpered, ordering, "Get your shoes on."

Stan slipped on sneakers by the front door, imploring, "Why?"

Kyle had teeth pearly white as he told him, "I'm taking you out."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere. Follow your inspiration."

Stan nodded, taking his jacket off the hook to the left of the door and exited the house with Kyle. The redhead looked to him and inquired,

"So? Where do you want to go first?"

Stan looked around, admiring his surroundings more than he ever had. He thought a moment, then investigated,

"Is the Strawberry Festival still in Colorado?"

Kyle hummed in thought for a second or two before replying, "Yeah. I think it's a bit south, but they should still be here. They're probably in Gold Crown Town by now."

Stan beamed, "I'll race you there."

Kyle laughed, but Stan took off ahead of him. He heard Kyle object, but soon enough he was being chased. They were chuckling and gasping as they ran down the streets and over two bridges, whenever one of them would steal 'First Place' the other would push them in the chest, sending them back about two feet, but they'd only keep running. They rarely spoke, as it took so much energy and most of it was breathy gasps but when they did talk it was insulting each other. They were neck-to-neck when Kyle began speeding ahead, too far to the right for Stan to push him. Kyle laughed, stopping only when he heard Stan curse,

"Fuck, why are you so fast!? Why can't I race like you!?"

Kyle grinned, "Christians can't run, you fuck!"

The Jew ran far ahead, encouraging Stan to run faster as he yelled, "Christians can run, you ass!"

"Jesus didn't run, did-ee?" Kyle teased.

Stan glared with a smile growing from ear to ear, "Yeah he did! He was a fuckin' rabbit, of course he fuckin' ran!"

Kyle waited a moment before looking over his shoulder to his friend and snorting, "W-What?!"

Stan laughed out, "Wasn't he a fuckin' rabbit or whatever?"

Kyle started laughing hysterically, slowing him a bit before he retorted, "Of course not, you shit-head!"

"Then what the hell's with the fucking Easter Rabbit?!"

Kyle thought a moment, "There's an Easter Bunny laying eggs in the Spring the same way you can be in an octopus's garden in the shade, dude!"

Stan thought for a minute; he was quoting a Beatle's song, but other than that he didn't follow…

"…uhm…how?"

"You have to be on a lot of drugs!"

"Oh! That fuckin' explains it!"

They laughed until Kyle noticed Stan taking the lead. He went to hit him in the chest, but the boy got away with cutting in front of him. Stan hadn't known the Jew was plotting, so was thus shocked when Kyle jumped on his back, kicking at his sides. Stan had yelled at the sudden attack, but with the reassuring sound of Kyle's laugh he asked,

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

Kyle was still laughing when he responded condescendingly, "I got tired! Not to mention, one of my favorite sounds in the world is your scream."

Stan finally stopped running, leaning his hands on his knees as he gasped and Kyle climbed off his bent back. They began processing their location; they were on the sidewalk strip of a very busy bridge. Kyle looked over the ledge, pointing below them and telling Stan, "Dude, the festival's down there!"

Stan grinned, standing up straight again, "Alright…I can't run anymore…actually…I might puke…so…let's chill for a second."

Kyle smiled, "Told you Christians can't run."

Stan slanted an evil smile, "You're an ass."

"Yeah, but you like it."

Stan blushed, "Dick."

Kyle laughed, smacking Stan's shoulder in friendly combat. They were both huffing , a small breeze passing through them. They stood staring at one another for a long while until Kyle suggested, "So? Shall we?"

Stan looked down at the festival and agreed, nodding positively, "Yeah."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"So…when did you read Othello?"

Kyle looked up to the sky for a minute before guessing, "Probably around fifth or sixth grade."

Stan hummed; it had been hours. They went to the festivals, had gone on each ride and played each game. Stan was licking away at an apple, a once nutritious snack, dunked in caramel and sprinkles. They were sitting on the swings at a park only a few yards away from the festival. They played on the seesaw that turned out to be, not only too small for them, but was no longer a toy, but a crotch-slingshot device. They went down the twisting slides and tried the monkey bars, but after almost losing his sugary sweet, Stan was not about to risk it again and they moved onto the swings. Stan had been interviewing Kyle on all of his Shakespearean knowledge since then.

"I still haven't read Romeo and Juliet."

Kyle looked to him and stated, "Well…that's fine, isn't it?"

Stan moved his gaze onto his best friend as the boy explained, "I mean…I can lend you some of his other works…and Romeo and Juliet can be put together and told to you right before your eyes. Then you can 

save Romeo and Juliet as the last piece you'll read…cause that's…ironic and…poetic of you…so it'd be…doing something cool in the name of Shakespeare."

Stan smiled as Kyle met his eyes. Kyle looked suspicious despite his grin, "What? What are you smiling at?"

Stan shrugged, "You just always come up with good ideas."

"Yeah, I'm a real genius, aren't I?" Kyle gloated.

Stan didn't laugh, though. He only looked more deeply at his friend, smiling and adding, "Yeah…and you always take good care of me."

Kyle looked back at the ebony-haired boy, staring thoughtfully at him. They both looked pensive, neither minded the silence. Kyle inquired suddenly,

"Why do you…praise me like that?"

Stan flustered and looked to his feet planted and swaying him on the chained seat. He flicked his head to move his charcoal bang from his eye, but it fell back into place as he muttered,

"Because…you're my best friend. You're like…a super hero. I dunno…you just make everything better when it's all rotten."

He turned back to the other boy to see him looking away, his eyes low as he replied, "Not really…I always…I always thought of you as a super hero, Stan…I just always idolized you…you're strong and funny and social and totally laid back, cool and collected and mature and…you're everything all bundled up into one guy, ya know?"

Stan swayed his swing next to the redhead and wrapped his arm over his shoulder. The boy's hair consisted of maybe twenty thick, silky curls that bobbed when he turned to Stan with surprised eyes. Stan grinned and moved the sweet before Kyle's mouth, insisting,

"Take some."

"I can't have any of that; it's a heart attack on a stick."

Stan's brow furrowed, "You're fourteen. You'll be fine."

"Do you realize how much sugar is on that stick of doom?"

Stan grunted, resting the apple against Kyle's slightly agape lips. Stan glared to him and directed, "You are going to open your mouth, put your tongue on the apple and you are going to lick the apple."

Kyle blushed, hesitantly parting his thick lips he took his tongue to the intoxicating candy and followed Stan's orders. The sun was setting behind the playground, the orb of light in the sky was a deep orange and it was planting a beam of yellow and tangerine between them. It gave Stan dark red-looking 

highlights in his hair and Kyle suspected it was dying streaks of blonde into his curls. The Jew hummed in delight, looking to Stan and instructing, "You too…it's your candy after all."

Stan leaned forward and licked near to where Kyle had, only to feel his heart skip a beat when Kyle repeated the action next to him. Their cheeks were barely touching, Stan's arm draped over Kyle's shoulders, sharing a dessert under the cool sunset…it was almost a date.

They both stopped when they looked and even felt their mouths almost meeting. They simultaneously moved away, their noses just meeting; they were both feeling something strange from the heat of their breaths colliding. Kyle finally moved away first, asking innocently,

"H-hey…should your mom be home by now? Will she be worried?"

Stan moved away as well, replying, "Uhm…she might be…I don't know…"

"Well…" Kyle smiled, standing and offering his hand to Stan as he continued, "let's get going then!"

Stan smiled, biting into his sweet as he lifted himself from the swing with the help of Kyle's hand. They didn't race or curse at each other. The entire walk home was dedicated to discussing A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Rape of Lucrece. They found the walk home took about an hour and the sun was long set by the time they made it to Stan's house. The candy he had purchased was nothing but a slaver-drenched stick by the time they were met with Stan's front door. They felt awkward parting again, and as Kyle was walking onto the pavement from Stan's lawn he heard the boy call after him. Kyle looked back and asked, "Huh?"

Simpering, Stan inquired, "You know what would make this day perfect?"

Kyle looked to both his sides, "…no idea."

"If you slept over."

Kyle smiled, but it was melted by a scrunched face, "Eh…your dad's all anal about sharing a bed and my back can't really handle another night on that crappy futon thing."

Stan suggested, "Well…can I sleep over your house?"

Kyle instantly responded, "Yeah of course. You wanna run in and ask?"

Stan nodded and did so. His mother caught onto the wave of enthusiasm and inspiration; she agreed to let him go over and he quickly packed a bag. He waved her off, sharing a couple words before running out the door to Kyle. They walked to his house and filled two glasses with Gatorade, walked up to his room and sat on his bed. Stan traded in his borrowed books for As You Like It, Measure for Measure, Taming the Shrew, Twelfth Night, Winter's Tale, Two Gentlemen of Verona, Henry VI, King John and King Lear. Kyle assured him that those pieces should last him more than a day and Kyle helped Stan interpret some of the sonnets he had trouble with. They stayed up late talking about all the plays and at some 

point Stan had turned Kyle's ipod on and they danced for what seemed hours. Stan was shocked to learn that night that Kyle…

"DUDE, YOU ARE A SICK BREAK DANCER!"

Kyle laughed, "It's not an actual ambition, so don't try to make me a professional."

"But-"

"STOP USING ME IN YOUR DIABOLIC GET-RICH-QUICK-SCHEMES!"

Stan sighed, "Ugh…fine."

Kyle looked to one of the three clocks around his television and he announced sorrowfully, "Eh…it's almost one."

Stan groaned, "How many hours of sleep does that give us?"

Kyle instantaneously replied, "Four and a half."

"…can we make that five?"

"Yeah. We can make that five."

Stan quickly crawled into Kyle's bed, stretching his feet and legs under the blanket as Kyle clicked off his bedside table lamp. A moment passed in pitch black silence until Stan ventured,

"Kye…"

"Yeah?"

"…are you sleepy?"

"…no."

"Neither am I."

"…we're not going to get sleep tonight are we?"

"…no."

"You ruin me."

Stan chuckled, "Well, I try."


	8. Do You Love Me, Now That I Can Dance

**Hey, guys. This chapter is very, very long! (12 pages!) Hope you like it, please leave opinions in reviews and any websites with accurate Shakespeare references if anyone knows any! Thank you all for reading! :D**

"Eric Carmen is like Shakespeare."

Stan cocked a brow, "Cartman?!"

"NO! Eric CAR-MEN…he wrote that song in Dirty Dancing…that…that one …that's like…uh…that goes like…it's uhm…it's in Dirty Dancing."

Stan laughed, "Okay, we got that. Sing a part, maybe I'll recognize it."

"I look at you and I fantasize that you're mine tonight, now I've got you in my sights, with-these Hungry Eyes…one look at you and I can't disguise, I've got Hungry Eyes—I feel the magic between you and I…r-ringin' any bells, Stan?"

Stan blushed; he recognized the song of course, but wanted to hear Kyle sing again. It was leisurely, effortless, but Stan was beginning to imagine the words dedicated to him. He hummed uncertainly then replied, "Nope."

Kyle sighed shakily; Stan smiled, he was so easily embarrassed. The redhead looked away, "Well, that's sad for you."

Stan chuckled, "Harsh, dude."

Kyle rolled his eyes as a gaggle of middle school girls walked up to the retro ice-cream parlor bar and ordered two chocolate shakes and a large sundae to split between them all. In the group was the young girl Kyle had flirted with on her last visit, Stan noted them making eye-contact and her quickly looking away. Kyle whipped out two glasses for shakes, spinning them in the air and catching them again before telling them,

"Well, let's say since you have the prettiest girl in South Park with you this afternoon, it's on the house."

The girls giggled, a blonde stepping forward and inquiring, "Who'd that be?"

Kyle smiled, looking to the brown-haired girl and announcing, "Miss Mary-Jane, back there. I see you."

The girl blushed and stepped behind one of her other friends. They all laughed cutely, one of them looking to him and telling him, "We're just gonna…go…grab a booth."

He grinned, "I'll be sure to get your orders there."

As they walked away Kyle turned around, turning on the blender and working his magic with the sugars and crèmes. Stan was beaming at the Jew, his face slumped in his hand as he leaned on the parlor bar's 

silver table. Kyle looked back to his friend, giggled and looked away. Stan was running his finger along the rim of his glass of Sprite when he implored,

"So…how is Eric Carmen like Shakespeare?"

Kyle put the cap on the blender, setting it on before looking back at Stan, wiping his hands under the small hand-towel always in the back of his pants. He was grinning, telling the boy,

"I dunno. That song's awesome."

Stan laughed out, "You like eighties music?!"

"Fuck you."

"Oh, I get it, it's because you have a crush on Patrick Swayze, right?"

Kyle flustered and glared at the ebony-haired teenager, tossing the dirty towel at his face before returning to his work-station. He swirled some whipped cream onto their drinks before getting to work on their sundae. Stan was indulging in his witticism, throwing the towel back at Kyle, who caught it behind his back; Kyle gripped the little rag and shoved it into his back pocket again. Stan found himself distracted from his inward praising…

That hill…that bump, that bottom…it was haunting him.

He blushed, trying to look away, but moving his face in another direction didn't help; his eyes wandered against his will. He admired how tight Kyle's black dress-pants were, clinging closely by his waist and thighs then slowly fanning thinly out like subtle bell-bottoms. Stan let his eyes travel up Kyle's backside, examining his fit, curved figure and pointed, boyish shoulders. Kyle's neck looked smooth, shadowing inconspicuous muscles and a nearly invisible adam's apple. His jaw-line was sharp but velvety, his cheeks were always a bit rosy from the constant chill outside and they were powdered with freckles on light, not yet pale skin. His lashes were long and matched his hair, calling attention to the mesmerizing emerald swirling in his irises. His nose was small, without flaw or bump with a round tip that reminded Stan of a button-nosed teddy-bear. His lips were thick or plump, cutely pouted or simpering in the lovely way he did, Stan was hypnotized by their satin look.

The seemingly perfectly-carved boy turned as if in a pirouette, in the perfect way he did. His few curls bobbed enthusiastically as he loaded the two drinks and large sundae onto a red, plastic platter and exited the ringed desk he worked behind. He walked up to the heavily populated booth and winked to Mary-Jane before returning to Stan. He smiled to his friend and broke out a water bottle from the fridge behind the bar then quickly downed half of it in one swipe. Stan cocked a brow, teasing,

"Oh, that must've taken a lot out of you, Kye."

Kyle smirked, "Shut up, dick."

Stan snorted a laugh, "Hey, did you hear about the school dance?"

Kyle shrugged, scrunching his expression into one of discontent,

"Yeah…not too appealing to me."

Stan was taken aback, knowing what a good dancer his friend was.

"Yeah, well I'm fucked if there's a slow song, so I guess it's best that we don't go."

Kyle smiled again, "Not that you could get a date…wait…you don't know how to dance?"

Stan glared, "Got a problem with that?"

They stared at each other for a moment before Kyle burst out into a fit of laughter. His laugh was so entertaining; Stan loved it. It was raspy, scratchy but soothing and endearing. It reminded him of Amy Winehouse's voice; he loved how the boy's lightly-colored lashes would cling to each other, his cheeks would redden and his tamed, pearly-white teeth would show without any gums. He was a model human being; simply, undeniably perfect. Stan grinned, reciting,

"Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have you dance!"

Kyle looked up to him, still beaming as he replied, "Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes with nimble soles, I have a soul of lead, so stakes me to the ground I cannot move."

Eyeing the redhead jokingly he chided, "You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings, and soar with them above a common bound."

"I am too sore enpierced with his shaft," Kyle began, "to soar with his light feathers, and so bound, I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe; under love's heavy burden do I sink."

Simpering Stan told him, "And, to sink in it, should you burden love; too great…fuckin'…uh…too great…fuckin'…"

Kyle laughed, "Oppression-"

"Fuck you! Too great oppression for a tender thing. You fuck."

Kyle was wheezing that cute laugh again, "You shit-head, that was fuckin' funny!"

Stan scowled, "Your face is funny, you fuck."

Kyle only laughed harder at Stan's offended comeback when Stan insisted, "Just keep going! We were doing really fuckin' good before you fucked me up!"

Kyle, mouth wide open in a shocked smile, laughed out, "W-what? I fucked you up?!"

Stan just glared while Kyle tried to hush his hysteria, he finally responded in a bubbly attitude,

"Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn."

Stan sighed, regaining concentration as he remembered, "If love be rough with you, be rough with love; prick love for pricking, and you beat love down. Give me a case to put my visage in; a visor for a visor! what care I--What curious eye doth quote deformities? Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me."

"Then that kid comes in…what's his name?"

Stan thought a moment, "I think it's Ben something or other. He goes to North Park."

Kyle nodded, glancing at the clock then returning his eyes to Stan before wondering aloud, "You ready for rehearsal tonight?"

"Let's just thank Jesus it's Friday."

"The Jesus that couldn't run?"

Stan went to smack at the boy playfully, but he backed away with his arms defending his face before adding in a chuckle, "O-or the Jesus who was a fucking rabbit?"

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, what gentle sin is this; my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Stan could even identify the deep fluster on Adam's face. He was so clearly head-over-heels for Kyle, it drove Stan insane. Stan wasn't entirely sure why it bothered him so much; maybe he was a homophobe. He wasn't positive, but all he could concentrate on was the anger bubbling and festering inside his stomach. Adam smiled gently to Kyle; they were sitting across from each other in the middle of the stage, rehearsing in front of the two teachers. Adam brushed away some hairs from his forehead, replying,

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."

Kyle's expression melted into one that fit his poetic response, leaning a bit more forward he glanced at the corner of his script (which was sitting by his left foot) and asked his Juliet,

"Have saint's not lips and holy palmers too?"

"Ay, pilgrim," Adam replied, "lips they must use in prayer."

"Oh, then dear saint," Kyle began, taking Adam's hands into his own, "let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair…"

It seemed everyone in the auditorium's hearts had stopped the moment Kyle touched Adam. Even in jeans and t-shirts, sitting on the glossy ground of a high school theater stage, between the two of them, the act was sincere enough to let their listeners get sucked in. Stanley Marsh could have been proclaimed dead in the time that his heart refused to move. His body was frozen; he never saw Kyle 

acting romantically and maybe it was the foreign act that made him so upset, but he was slowly approaching an existential meltdown. He looked to Adam only to see him blushing wildly, clearly swept off his feet by the redhead. Adam finally stammered in answer,

"O-Oh—Saint's do not move, they grant for prayer's sake."

Kyle leaned in a bit closer, his eyes low and gazing, "Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.  
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged."

Adam sighed, but it sounded about two octaves higher than it normally would as he cleared his throat nervously, replying, "Then have my lips the sin that they have took…"

Just as Stan's heart thumped in time with the crowd and Adam's dreams were coming true, Ms. Thrunton stepped forward and instructed,

"No need, we're editing this scene."

Kyle looked to her, slowly dropping Adam's hands and venturing, "You're editing it?"

She nodded, "We've made it so that Romeo and Juliet don't kiss before the audience until the end."

Kyle looked a bit displeased, as did Adam, but he was disappointed in an entirely different way. Stan breathed a sigh of relief before walking to the edge of the stage while Ms. Thrunton and Mrs. Herit started speaking to each other. Stan flicked his chin to move his bang, it only fell back into place again as he told his freckly friend,

"Y-You were really good, dude."

Kyle grinned, "You think? Maybe drama's my thing. I always knew I was sharing a life-path with Brad Pitt."

Stan rolled his eyes, "Your ego's never full, is it?"

"We should have a day to celebrate my awesomeness. It will be called, "National Saint Over-Lord of Awesome Pwnage Ninja Crazy Awesomeness Kyle Day" …it'll be NSOLAPNCAKD…"

With that, they both burst into laughter, calling attention from a few wandering drama members. As Stan's laughter calmed he heard Kyle inquire, "Hey, you wanna sleep over again tonight?"

Stan grinned, "Hell yeah."

Kyle gave him a thumbs-up, but before anything could be said they both heard Mrs. Herit call Kyle over to the other side of the theater where Adam stood. Stan's stomach shrank as Kyle smiled to him and began to turn away. Before he was too far Stan called after him, re-claiming his attention before asking softly,

"Hey…could…could you…could you teach me how to dance tonight, Kyle?"

He saw Kyle's face sink from shock or confusion to an expression he was unfamiliar with. His eyes lowered, shimmering with something akin to admiration while his cheeks filled with a little more pink. His full lips curved into a loving smile while his ears shifted slightly; he murmured back to the ebony-haired boy, "Of course."

With that, he turned and ran back to Mrs. Herit and Adam. Stan quickly turned away, knowing he would feel sick at the sight of Adam melting all over the Jew again. He just hoped the next two hours would pass relatively painlessly.

"Stan…"

He looked behind him, a boy from North Park was looking to him, suggesting, "You know…I-I'm Paris, so…I figured we should…rehearse our fight."

Stan grinned; finally, something he might like.

Oh wait.

He dies.

Fuck, he hated drama.

He sighed and conceited, following the boy on stage to learn they were given their fake swords already. Stan was happy to find that they weren't wooden, but a bendable silver that still made a harsh, intimidating sound when it clashed with itself. Ms. Thrunton staged their fighting scene with them and went over their lines for about an hour. After that hour, Mrs. Herit walked up to the group; extras were crowded around the fight as passer-bys and friends of the enemies while Stan and a boy he grew to know as Ryan. When the female teacher walked up to them with Adam and Kyle she suggested, "Well, well, it looks like a lot of progress. Can Romeo and Juliet join in?"

Ms. Thrunton grinned, "Our Romeo can, but I actually need to take some measurements for Juliet, so I'll take Adam to the changing room and go over some stuff. You can finish up this scene, right?"

Mrs. Herit nodded, "Of course." She patted Adam's back towards the other teacher, signaling him to leave. As he did so, she directed Kyle to the left end of the stage, or Stage Right, and asked the group, "I guess since Romeo hasn't been here, Mercutio hasn't practiced dying?"

Stan looked to Kyle from the other side of the stage, announcing, "Well…I don't suppose that's too hard…"

Kyle beamed in humor, looking to Mrs. Herit as she shot Stan a horrified expression and snapped, "OF COURSE IT'S HARD!"

Stan and everyone else twitched in fear as she took a step closer to him, still essentially Middle Stage as she ranted,

"Of course it's difficult! Mercutio was Romeo's best friend, BROTHER! They were closer than even Romeo and Juliet! They knew each other since birth, always looking out for each other and Mercutio DIES due to his best friend's interference! It is Romeo's fault that Mercutio dies! That his BROTHER dies in his arms! It's a significant and heart-breaking moment! It takes a lot of effort and practice and emotion to capture that moment successfully!"

They were all quiet for a moment until Stan inquired nearly inaudibly, "Hey…is that…is that why I'm Mercutio? Did you make me Mercutio because you knew Kyle and me were best friends?"

She smirked, clapping her hands and ordering, "ALRIGHT, EVERYONE GET IN PLACE! LET'S BEGIN AT TYBALT'S ENTRANCE!"

A blonde boy, Peter, stepped forward, playing Benvolio; "And I were so apt to quarrel as thou art…uh… any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter."

Stan looked to Peter, laughing off, "The fee-simple! Oh simple!"

"By my head!" Peter exclaimed, "Here come the Capulets."

Stan rolled his eyes as the flock of Capulet-actors approached, he told Peter nonchalantly, "By my heel, I care not."

Nameless to Stan, the boy playing Tybalt looked to his followers, glanced to his script and muttered to them, "Follow me close, for I will speak to them." He looked back to Stan and greeted, "Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you."

Stan grinned viciously, retorting, "And but one word with one of us? Couple it with something; make it a word and a blow."

Tybalt glared with a smirk, "You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, and you will give me occasion."

Kyle was signaled to enter onto the stage, triggering Tybalt to announce, "Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my man."

Stan stepped into Tybalt's path as Kyle's attention was caught to the fight, "But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery; marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower; your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'"

Tybalt pushed Stan out of his way, taking a step towards the redhead as he sneered, "Romeo, the hate I bear thee can afford; no better term than this,--thou art a villain."

Kyle painted a face Stan recognized, he normally used it to get out of trouble; an obscure pout, wide shining eyes and mildly curved brows; "Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting: villain am I none; therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not."

As Kyle turned to walk away and Stan went to insult him for his cowardice, Tybalt took two paces after him and shot, "Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw."

Kyle turned back, smiling gently and lovingly to Tybalt, setting Stan's heart on fire again, "I do protest, I never injured thee, but love thee better than thou canst devise, till thou shalt know the reason of my love; and so, good Capulet,--which name I tender as dearly as my own,--be satisfied."

Stan stepped in front of the redhead, a disgusted scowl played across his features as he looked to Tybalt, but told his friend, "Oh calm…uh…dishonorable, vile submission! Alla stoccata carries it away. Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk?"

Tybalt seemed to have caught onto the uncertainty in Stan's reciting and opted to use his script before responding, "What wouldst thou have with me?"

Stan regained his shining confidence that Kyle so admired; Kyle liked to think of Stan as a knight in shining armor. His smile so gallant, eyes so shimmering and condescending; he looked powerful and righteous. Kyle loved that. Stan glanced at Kyle's seemingly random smile before telling Tybalt, "Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher by the ears? Make haste, lest mine be about your ears here it be out."

Tybalt gleamed; he was about to recite just about everyone's favorite line…

"I am for you!"

With that, they both pulled out their swords and repeated their staged fight. Stan was the first to throw his sword to Tybalt, who blocked it with equal agility and the continued to smack silver as they stepped forward and back and twisted in spot. The kids cheered or boo-ed, most rooting for Tybalt as Kyle stepped forward and insisted, "Gentle Mecutio, put thy rapier up!"

"Come, sir, your passado!"

Kyle tried to keep in time with Stan, moving back and forward with him as he shouted over the crowd's chanting, "Draw, Benvolio; beat down their weapons! Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage! Tybalt, Mercutio, the prince expressly hath forbidden bandying in Verona streets: hold, Tybalt! Good Mercutio!"

Tybalt took his sword under Kyle's blocking arms and poked at where Stan was familiar with his kidney. Kyle turned to his friend in horror as Tybalt and his followers practically flew backstage. Kyle dropped to his knees, taking Stan's head onto his lap as Stan murmured,

"I am hurt. A plague on both your houses! I am sped. Is he gone, and hath nothing?"

Peter looked back and forth between Stan and Kyle as he implored, "What? Thou art hurt?"

Stan's senses concentrated only on the feeling of Kyle's arms holding tight to him. His indigo eyes melted into Kyle's jade, worried irises. Stan was bolted to Kyle's whim, he was unconsciously musing, completely taken by the swirling ultramarine in his eyes. The fluster was contagious, spreading onto Stan's face as he discovered Kyle's slightly agape lips so close to him. His eyes traveled down, spotting 

the refined breathing of his friend creating beautiful shadows across his collarbone and neck. He could almost feel the silken touch of Kyle's skin, he could almost feel Kyle's neck against his lips and he barely knew he was being consumed by those thoughts while he was being intoxicated by the boy's natural scent…

"Stan?" He heard the boy whisper.

"Oh-uhm-right…ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; 'tis enough." Stan groaned in pain as he snapped, "Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon!"

Peter then dashed off the stage, Kyle turned to the ebony-haired boy in his lap, "Courage, man, the hurt cannot be much…"

"No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for  
me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man." The boy coughed, "I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague on both your houses! A dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! A braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm!"

Kyle's eyes were sorrowful and pleading as he insisted, "I-I thought all for the best!"

Peter re-entered and looked to Kyle's best friend as said boy fought, "Help me into some house, Benvolio, or I shall faint." Peter came over to Stan, gripping him from under his arms and lifting him up onto his feet where he continued to lean on Peter. Stan glared to the redhead, "A plague on both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me, I have it, and soundly too: a plague on both your houses!"

As they exited, everyone watched from backstage, the freckly teen furiously punched the floor before looking up with fogged eyes, "This gentleman…the prince's near ally…" He paused to intake deeply, "My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt in MY behalf; my reputation stained…with Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour hath been my…my kinsman!" He straightened his back, allowing his head to fall back dramatically as he practically wept, "Oh, sweet Juliet! Thy beauty hath made me effeminate and in my temper softened valour's steel!"

Peter ran back to Kyle, proclaiming, "Oh, Romeo, Romeo! Brave Mercutio is dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, which too untimely here did scorn the earth."

Kyle looked away, his face devoid of joy as he responded gently, "This day's black fate on more days doth depend…this but begins the woe, others must end."

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Ms. Thrunton exclaimed as she clapped. She looked to the clock by the entrance doors, turning to the kids again before announcing, "You guys can take a twenty-minute break! Wonderful job, everyone!"

Stan walked up to his friend, imploring, "Hey, would you kill a guy to avenge me?"

Kyle snorted, "Duh."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Now put your hand on my waist."

Stan swallowed audibly, backing away, "Maybe I don't need to learn to dance."

Stan's heart skipped a beat when the redhead reached forward, gripping his wrists and pulling him back by placing them on his hips. Stan looked to both his hands, then his friend as Kyle insisted,

"I am not letting you get away. Now that I know you can't dance, it's my civil duty to teach you."

Stan's heart was ready to break through his ribs and drop to the floor as he felt Kyle's arms wrap around his neck. All movement suddenly ended as they made eye-contact and Kyle asked lowly,

"When did you get taller than me?"

They both acknowledged what could have been an inch or two extra that Stan possessed. The ebony-haired boy blushed, looking off to his right as he mumbled, "I-I don't know…"

Kyle sighed, "I hate being short."

Stan perked a brow, "You're not short. You're like five, eleven. I'm only six, one."

Kyle still made a disappointed noise, changing the subject, "Well, anyway, this isn't dancing really that we're gonna practice first. We're just gonna…sway. It kind of determines if you have rhythm or not. If you do, then we can just go straight into dancing. If you don't, then I'll pound rhythm into you."

"What if I don't get it still?"

"Then I'll kill you."

Stan sighed; that meant that Kyle knew he was planning to be terrible on purpose. Kyle smiled softly, "Come on, it's not hard to sway. And at least it's me and not your mom or someone just as uncomfortable or embarrassing."

Stan agreed under his breath and looked to Kyle, signaling he was ready to begin. Kyle nodded to him and leaned on one foot, Stan did the same and the pattern continued. Just light pressures being shifted back and forth, back and forth. Kyle looked to their feet, then back to Stan and muttered, "Close your eyes."

On the same level of whisper-like volume he implored, "Why?"

"To make sure you're not just predicting where I'll sway next in what timing, it'll test if you can feel the rhythm or not." Kyle replied.

He hadn't planned on arguing about it, so he did as instructed and thought about what he should imagine to assure that his footing would stay intact. His mind's eye produced the comforting and familiar image of his redheaded friend lying beside him in bed. He recalled how lucidly, how poetically, 

divinely his friend's chest would lift and fall in time. The sound of intaking and sighing, but the way Kyle did. The way it felt next to him breathing, the way it smelled and sounded. Stan's heart refused to stay in touch with their dancing, gaining incredible speed and echoing sound, but Stan's ability to concentrate on the miraculous breathing in his memory cells kept him in time. Stan was so in tune with the memory, in fact, that he looked closer. He saw the moonlight beaming from the window reflecting on Kyle's skin, making him milky; he noticed how fancifully ghost-like the trees' shadows outside danced on his profile. His lashes locked together and rested lightly on his freckled cheeks; his few, thick and silky curls were fanned beneath him like a halo of the setting sun.

His mind's eye traveled down the boy's face, down his neck, his collarbone and onto his chest. It rose, then fell…rose, then fell…rose, then fell…a formula or a dance or the flight of a bird, it was a beautiful pattern that for reasons he couldn't place, made his heart pound.

"Stan…"

He opened his eyes to find himself dancing with Kyle. Kyle's velvety hand was placed daintily in his own, his other hand on Kyle's waist. The charcoal-haired boy stammered,

"H-how…how did I…when…"

Kyle immediately replied, "I was mumbling the steps to you while you concentrated on your rhythm and you kept your beat and you've been dancing fine."

"Well, you've been sending instructions to my subconscious!"

"I haven't said anything for the last ten minutes. It's all been you, on your own."

They hadn't stopped dancing, they were turning when Kyle told him, "Okay, now you can dip me."

"Dip you?"

Kyle simpered, tightening the arm that was around Stan's neck and guiding Stan's hand from his waist to the small of his back. Kyle directed, "Now lean."

Stan did as he was told and Kyle let his head fall back, lifting one of his knees gracefully against Stan's side. Kyle laughed after a moment, "You can let go now…"

Stan was about to, but instead mumbled something that Kyle didn't quite catch. The redhead lifted his head a bit, imploring, "What did you say?"

"I…I don't want to…"

Kyle's heart punched dramatically against his chest as he inquired, "You…you don't want to…let me go?"

Stan lifted his arm, picking Kyle up onto an angle while he still stood straight. Kyle's knee was still hallow, his only sources of balance were Stan's grip on his left hand and his right arm draped over Stan's shoulder. His ebony-haired friend moved his arm from the small of his back to the curve of his neck, 

lifted him and took his lips with his own. Stan was getting used to these daydreams now, so he just tried to appreciated the solitary moments in them that he felt good. He adored the feeling of his fingers wrapping themselves in the slippery curls of his friend's sunset hair, he couldn't restrain from slipping his tongue into his friend, kissing him deeply. Stan was pleased that the daydream had actually allowed him to touch Kyle, seeing as last time the daydream abruptly ended before allowing Kyle's fingers to brush against him. He eventually broke the kiss and looked to his friend…

Kyle smiled; of course, Stan knew, the poor boy probably didn't have a clue of the strange scenes that had played in his head the last few weeks.

"Stan?"

"Huh?"

"I said you can let go now…"

"Oh…right, course."


	9. I Dare You To Move

**PLEASE READ THIS:**

**Again, all quotes were done by memory. There's a seriously long chunk done by memory and if anyone has corrections or anything, PLEASE TELL ME**

**Thank you all reviewer and PMers, it's so so so so so so appreciated! Hope you liked your latest chapter! :D**

"Wake up, dude…"

Stan slowly opened his eyes, mumbling back, "What?"

Kyle was smiling to him cutely, his friendly eyes shining as he replied, "I got breakfast ready. My Mom woke me up earlier to tell me she was leaving with Dad to visit my aunt upstate. Ike is with his boy-scout group for this weekend, so we've got the house to ourselves. I made Belgium Waffles…"

Stan immediately shot upright, a growth-spurt edging it's way to his stomach as he grinned, "What kind of ice-cream?"

"Vanilla, just how you like it."

Stan looked to the redhead and noted that he wasn't dressed as he usually was on early Saturday mornings. Stan interviewed, "You're not dressed?"

Kyle looked to his plaid boxers, then back to his ebony-haired friend as he muttered back, "No one's home, I don't wanna wear pants."

Stan chuckled as Kyle gripped him by his arms and dragged him out of bed. They descended the stairs and the aroma of ice-cream, chocolate chips, waffles and bacon filled the first floor. Stan looked to the table to see a plate decorated with the mentioned waffles, a scoop of vanilla ice-cream with chocolate shavings on top, syrup beneath it and three gigantic strawberries set to the side of the plate. A dish in the middle of the table had three hot buns, a few strips of bacon and fried ham, while there was a small bowl of fruit a little to the right of it. Stan sat down and instantaneously began stuffing his face. He was savoring a chunk of his ice-cream-syrup-chocolate-waffles when he looked to his friend at the sink. He inquired after swallowing, "Hey…aren't you having any?"

Stilling brushing away at the pans with his sponge, Kyle chuckled, "You're insane, that'll kill me."

Stan growled; he was officially determined to get Kyle to take at least a bite. He took his napkin, patting at his mouth to pick up the residue as he tried to start inconspicuous conversation,

"So," Stan began, "when did your mom and dad leave?"

Kyle shrugged, "Probably an hour and a half ago. Not too long."

"Bacon? Ham? How did you get your hands on this stuff?"

Stan could hear the smirk in Kyle's voice as he told him, "I've got a secret stash."

Chuckling, Stan looked around the kitchen, spotting a drinking glass he was struck with a good idea. He silently got up and got the glass, put it beside his plate and he looked to the back of Kyle's head, requesting,

"Could you bring the orange juice over, dude?"

Kyle turned around, realizing Stan's empty glass, he apologized, "Oh, sorry, I guess I forgot to pour anything in it."

He walked over to the fridge, then came back to Stan; as Stan had predicted, to make up for not pouring it at all, Kyle was planning on pouring it himself. He was bent over the table, unscrewing the cap as Stan cut a generous lump from his waffle and before Kyle could lift the carton to pour, Stan shoved the delicious treat into Kyle's mouth. Kyle's pupils shrank as he spotted the fork in his mouth; his expression soon melted into a glare to his friend as Stan simpered with soft laughter,

"Eat it."

The redhead closed his eyes, chewed and swallowed. He opened his mouth with a sigh as Stan removed the fork from the boy's mouth. Kyle was smiling, but still scowling as he mumbled,

"You're going to be the death of me."

Stan rolled his eyes, "You're paranoid, you're not going to die."

"You don't respect my blood sugar levels."

Still Stan insisted, "You're not going to die, Kye!"

"One way or another."

It stayed quiet for a moment before Stan ventured, "What?"

"One way or another. I'm going to die one way or another. I don't want to die because of my sugar levels. That's stupid. I want to die in my sleep."

Stan looked away, "I don't think so…"

"What?" Kyle pressed.

"Well," Stan began, "that doesn't sound right…I mean…if you die in your sleep…you still have a chance of it not being nice…you could die half-way through a nightmare, or you could think you're dreaming your death and not…and what if you die beside a relative during a nap or something, you're going to scar them deep…I mean…I think…dying because of candy and sugar…I think that's a really…sweet way to go. Cause people will know that you were living the way you wanted, not the way your body tried to 

make you. Not to mention you could die at any age because of sugar and stuff, but you have to be very old and out of sorts to die in your sleep…I'd much prefer to…not die in my sleep. I don't know how I want to die. I don't think I want to at all."

Kyle was wide-eyed as he responded, "That's…really wonderful reasoning, Stan, but everyone dies…you can't just…choose not to."

Stan looked away, "I don't understand how people can take death so lightly; planning out how you're going to die and all that…I don't like it…it makes it sound like it's coming soon…"

Kyle frowned, "I'm sorry, Stan, but it is coming soon. It always is, for everyone. Imagine I die today, Stan?"

Stan's heart skipped a beat as he looked back to the Jew, "Imagine, Stan…you'd never know, but it could be anything…but I don't…I don't think I'm scared of dying. I think I'm just scared of how I'm going to die."

Stan looked to his feet again, "I'm scared of dying. I don't know what's waiting for me…I don't want to be punished…I don't want to be in pain or…I don't know…I'm scared, though."

Kyle placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, reclaiming his attention as he responded softly, "I'm sorry, Stan…I'm sorry that you're scared…but you know…I wouldn't care if I were punished in the end…cause…I'd look back on all the time I spent with you and all the bad stuff we did together…and I'd still be proud and I'd still be happy that I spent it and did it all with you…"

Stan's indigo eyes moved into his friend's jade as the redhead continued, "You're my compromise. In the end it wouldn't matter if it was wrong, because I was so happy being with you. And I don't think God would do that to you, Stan."

Stan blushed; ever since middle school, when they first really started understanding the differences in their religions they never spoke of it. Both were destined for Hell in each other's beliefs, so they never talked about it or mentioned their destinies beyond death, because they didn't want to fight or hurt each other. Normally Stan wouldn't talk about his fears so openly, but it was Kyle after all. The angel of perfection, the sympathetic, empathetic, understanding, almighty Kyle Broflovski that cared for him no matter his ail, no matter how long his heartache lasted. Stan mumbled back,

"But…your God…I mean…our God…yours doesn't…uhm…you don't…"

Kyle simpered, "Doesn't matter what my people say, Stan. I don't think he's exactly how they explain him in our books and portraits, and I don't know if I believe everything they tell me, but Stan…I do know God loves you. I know that for certain. And if…if I am damned for having been born into sin, like your people say…then…then I know I was blessed with your friendship."

Stan shot out of his seat, standing and embracing the boy tightly. Kyle hugged him back with equal strength and force; they both knew something happened. Something just occurred that changed them 

both, they didn't know what, but they knew it happened. Whatever it was, it brought them closer and their hug was the physical manifestation of that silent idea. Stan suddenly spoke into Kyle's shoulder, imploring,

"Imagine…imagine I died today…what would you do, Kye?"

There was a thick quiet, their bodies still never parting. Stan noticed how Kyle's thick hair was still silky and lovely after having slept on it; he noted how much stronger Kyle's arms were since they were little. His hands concentrated on the muscles in Kyle's back that had never seemed to be there until that moment. He wondered when it was that Kyle's shoulders had grown so broad and boyish, wondered why Kyle smelled so sweet and treated him so kindly. When the silence was washed all around them and Kyle could hesitate no longer without hurting the comfort in the room, he replied,

"I would miss you."

Stan broke away a little bit, still holding onto the freckled boy as he muttered, "Thank you…"

"Don't thank me for what you should know is true."

Stan pulled him closer again, hiding his lips and nose in the parting of Kyle's hair. He felt himself smile,

"You're amazing."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"How can we have rehearsal on the weekend?! That's evil! Pure evil!" Stan complained.

Stan didn't entirely hate rehearsal anymore; he just hated Adam. Every time they went, the brunette would try and get alone-time with Kyle. They had rehearsed together so much, their lines were practically all memorized with three weeks of rehearsal left.

Kyle huffed, "Ugh, you and your complaining! It's almost Hell Week, and you'll be thankful for these rehearsals when it comes around."

Stan looked away lowly, "Yeah, yeah. You sound like your mom."

Kyle was shocked from walking as Stan chuckled and walked ahead; he knew that'd get to him. Kyle chased after him after a while, shouting, "I DO NOT! I DO NOT SOUND LIKE HER! DON'T SAY THAT! TAKE THAT BACK!"

Stan just laughed in response; he loved pressing Kyle's buttons. Ever since that morning the two of them had only separated to shower and there was this overwhelmingly friendly, loving aura between them. They walked into the school, entering the auditorium to see Adam approaching. The boy politely smiled to both of them, inquiring,

"Hey, what's up?"

Kyle returned the smile, "Not much. We just walked here…we aren't late, are we?"

"Course not. We're getting started in a couple minutes."

Stan looked to Kyle as the redhead took his wrist gingerly and tugged him along. Stan blushed, his bang bouncing in rhythm with Kyle's curls as they descended the slanted walkway. His heart was thumping a little harder with each step, but it all ended as suddenly as it started when Mrs. Herit approached them and stated, "I need Kyle and Adam. Stanley, you need to join Peter on stage to go over lines as well."

Ms. Thrunton suddenly called from the other side of the auditorium; she was taking notes in her clipboard on the piano. She called over,

"Wait! I need Stanley and Kyle for measurements!"

Stan mumbled a curse; he hated people calling him 'Stanley', maybe because it reminded him of his mother, or maybe because it reminded him of Wendy, but either way it got him aggravated. He looked to Kyle, then to Ms. Thrunton; they both shrugged and walked over to the woman as Mrs. Herit's voice called over their shoulders,

"Alright, but bring Kyle to me when you're done with him!"

Stan glared; he felt like a puppet. A puppet for their sick and twisted fantasies to play out. Fully grown women who had nothing better to do than torture Stan and Kyle when they had no defenses; trapped by the ruling of their principle. Some strange boy was stealing Stan's best friend from him; or attempting to. Hours were spent without the redhead, hours spent reciting lines that didn't mean anything to Stan because he was far too distracted with the idea of Kyle going away to translate emotions. The way everyone kept him isolated because he screamed at the brunette at the auditions, the way Kyle had looked at him that day, the way he spoke and glared. It wasn't right. And the way Wendy would scowl and shoot him awful looks in the hallways, and the way they would leave angry notes in Kyle's locker.

Kyle didn't talk about it, but Stan knew. Stan could see when Kyle lied, when Kyle hid, when Kyle had secrets he wouldn't confide… It wasn't right. It didn't feel right. It didn't sound right. But then Kyle looked to him, he smiled in the wonderful way he did…and everything was right again. Kyle smiles and he's home again. He sees that curved line draw on his flawless face and his heart can beat again. He witnesses that grin and suddenly the lies, the hiding, the glaring, the yelling and the secrets never looked less important. He sees that smile and all he's capable of is smiling back. He wouldn't speak about his racing thoughts and heart, because he would get scared and something like a lie or a hiding place, a glare or a yell would come out instead. Instead of the secrets he couldn't confide.

The lies that kept him up all night, the lies that he wouldn't think about because he could feel the horror washing over him again. The horror that he's slowly realizing something. That something wasn't clear, it was behind a veil that Stan himself had placed there to hide the worst part of him, but he knew once he looked beyond it, that something would be as clear as day. He was scared that something might tear them apart, that it might send Kyle away and he'd be isolated, alone and unloved. Without a freckly friend who's perfect in every way, without someone to fix him something delicious when he was 

grumpy, without someone to break down to, without someone to tell he was scared, without someone to share a bed with, without someone to read lines with, to lend him poetry and that would be the end of him.

Stan was quite sure that if this something was ever revealed it would be ultimate ruination, a tragedy to rip his life from the seams and without a care, throw it to the wolves. Where he would be forgotten. Where Kyle would never set foot again because of the ugliness that would radiate from Stan, the overwhelming selfishness that was hiding behind that veil. That terrible distortion that Kyle knew nothing about. Stan hoped he never would have to know. He just wanted Kyle to smile, and he just wanted to smile back. Because that way no one got hurt. That way no one was terrible. That way no one could say good-bye. Alone was no way to live. Stan was determined to keep that boy with him until the day his worst fear would capture him. That veil would stay in place beyond that day. Of that, Stan was certain.

They stepped into the dressing room that Adam had led them to when first reading lines. Stan and Kyle were ordered to removed shirts and shoes and step into the middle of the room. When Stan shook off his shirt, he went to turn it inside out again, but when he looked to his right he saw Ms. Thrunton sitting on one of the chairs and wrapping a yellow measuring rope around Kyle's chest plates. Stan's friend turned on a slight angle, his arms were lifted awkwardly with his fingers on his shoulders; his silky curls were bobbing as he turned his head to follow Ms. Thrunton's hands. His spine was curved poetically, wonderfully as his seemingly hairless torso was highlighted, the yellow glow from the ceiling lights that sometimes flickered could be admired on the signs of muscles or thinning on Kyle's body. His hips were called attention by the lines that dipped into his boxers and jeans, as wide as his chest got which gave him a girlish shape.

The measuring rope moved from his chest, to his waist that looked smooth like a satin sheet in the lighting of a golden chandelier. From there, the rope moved around a more sensitive area below his waist. It wrapped around from the button of his jeans to the space between two belt loops in the back of his pants. This triggered the now natural response of all of Stan's attention; the rope moved up again; by his shoulders and neck. Stan's indigo eyes moved up the boy's elegant neck, to his somewhat pointed chin, his cute nose to his mesmerizing eyes. His lashes were long and shadowing his emerald eyes as he must have chuckled at a ticklish spot or the unlikely miracle that Ms. Thrunton had said something funny. Stan was consumed by Kyle's dainty hand lifting and pushing one of his tangerine curls behind his ear; it only slipped out again. Suddenly Kyle was looking to him, their eyes met from across the room, but Kyle didn't speak a word. Stan wondered if it was because he saw that something Stan's eyes.

"Alright, Stanley, I can take your measurements now."

"I'd rather you call me Stan."

"Okay then, Stan."

He took Kyle's place while secretly admiring him as he slipped his shirt back on. After a few minutes of the same exercises that were practiced on Kyle she wrote down numbers on a yellow form and announced, "Wow, boys. You guys have almost exact measurements, which is surprising."

Kyle inquired, "Why would that be surprising?"

She looked to Kyle through her thick glasses, replying, "Well, he's so much taller."

Stan snorted a laugh as Kyle glared; Stan couldn't help but adore how insecure his friend was.

As they walked out of the room, Ms. Thrunton yelled across the auditorium, "You've got your Mercutio and Romeo! Where's Juliet?"

Stan and Kyle still didn't look to each other as Mrs. Herit answered, "I sent Adam off to practice some scenes with the nurse! He had his heart set on practicing with Kyle, but I told him that those scenes already seemed to be taken care of!"

Stan smiled; justice.

"I'd like to use you boys, actually. Come on the stage."

…

Stan stood before Kyle who was sitting on a wooden chair, center stage while he stated, "A torch for me, let wantons light of heart tickle the senseless rushes with their heels, for I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase; I'll be a candle-holder, and look on. The game was never so fair, and I am done."

Stan replied cheerily, "Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word; If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!"

"Nay," Kyle replied, "Tis not so."

"I mean, sir, in delay, we waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits five times in that here once in our five wits."

"And we mean well in going to this mask; But 'tis no wit to go." Kyle insisted.

"Why, may one ask?" Stan implored.

"I dreamt a dream tonight."

"Mmm," Stan hummed, "And so did I."

"Well what was yours?"

Stan smiled, "That dreamers often lie."

"In bed, asleep" Kyle told him, "while they dreams things true."

"O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes  
in shape no bigger than an agate-stone on the fore-finger of an alderman, drawn with a team of little atomies athwart men's noses as they lie asleep; her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs. The cover of the wings of grasshoppers, the traces of the smallest spider's web, the collars of the moonshine's watery beams, her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film, her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat--not so big as a round little worm pricked from the lazy finger of a maid…" Stan paused, looking off into the empty seats of the auditorium, "Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, time out of mind the fairies' coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love; over courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight, over lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees, over ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometime she gallops over a courtier's nose, and then dreams he of smelling out a suit; and sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,"

Stan didn't pause, but Kyle's mind did. He loved the second half of Mercutio's monologue. It wasn't entirely that he loved how the second half was written, but it was something about the way Stan's voice comforted him. Stan's voice was so recognizable, so familiar and it felt like home when Stan spoke. It was warm like a fireplace and welcoming like flowers in the front yard. He loved the way Stan's eyes sparked up; Kyle knew he must feel smart up there, reciting ancient poetry. That was fine, though. It didn't matter what he said. As long as Stan was there, Kyle was happy. And all Kyle wanted from the boy was to hear him speak of love in the finest way History offered.

"Then dreams, he of another benefice; sometime she driveth over a soldier's neck, and then dreams he dreams of cutting foreign throats, Spanish blades, of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, and being thus frightened swears a prayer or two and sleeps again. This is that very Mab that plats the manes of horses in the night, and bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, which once untangled, much misfortune bodes. This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, that presses them and learns them first to bear, making them women of good carriage. This is she, this is she—"

Kyle interrupted the boy, "Peace, peace, Mercutio…thou talk'st of nothing."

The ebony-haired boy looked to him and responded softly, "True…I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain. Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, which is as thin of substance as the air  
and more inconstant than the wind, who woes even now the frozen bosom of the north…and, being angered, puffs away from thence, turning his face to the dew-dropping south."

Mrs. Herit seemed hypnotized by her eagerness and giddiness; they were good. She then read Benvolio's line off her script, "This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves; supper is done, and we shall come too late."

Kyle looked away, replying, "I fear, too early…for my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars shall bitterly begin his fearful date with this night's revels and expire the term of a despised life closed in my breast by some vile forfeit of untimely death." Kyle breathed out deeply, turning around again, "But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen!"

Mrs. Herit clapped furiously, telling them, "OH! Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful! You have no idea how happy this made me, boys! You can go and relax until Adam comes back!"

They walked off the stage as Paris and his servant met; they sat down in the third isle together and sighed in unison. Stan looked beside him, Kyle was staring blankly ahead and all Stan could do was admire his profile. That is, until Kyle looked to him again. His heart sank, but then Kyle smiled.

And everything was right again.


	10. You Lie, You Lie, You Miss

**Kind of short, this one. Thank you all of you who leave reviews and send PMs, it's insanely appreciated! Hope you like your latest chapter :D**

"Do you know who's doing scenery and stuff?"

"What?"

Stan was with Kyle at the ice-cream parlor once again, discussing the play. Kyle had been entertaining young girls and creating sugary masterpieces for about three hours now, hardly having a moment to spare for Stan. Not only did he have little time to spare, but it seemed he had little knowledge of the technical stuff behind their upcoming show.

"You know, like background and costumes and stuff…I mean, the whole cast is male, but…I mean…isn't the drama group mainly girls?"

Kyle topped a bowl of mint chocolate-chip ice-cream with whipped cream and a cherry before replying, "Well, I dunno. You should ask Ms. Thrunton. She's all over that stuff."

The bells at the top of the entrance doors sounded and their friends Kenny and Eric entered. They walked up to the two boys, Kenny immediately striking conversation with Kyle;

"Hey, I haven't seen you much."

Kyle smiled, "Jeez, you're right. How've you been?"

"Eh," Kenny replied, "poor and dying. Same old, same old."

Kyle chuckled, "Too bad."

Kenny just laughed, requesting, "Well, I think I'd like to see a menu. I always wanted a sexy Jewish slave to feed me whatever sugar-infected snack I wanted whenever I pleased."

Stan glared to the blonde boy as Kyle grinned, responding chidingly, "Yes, well, unfortunately I only make them, you'll have to feed yourself."

Kenny looked away, sighing, "It's not as hot that way."

Kyle laughed, "It's ice-cream. It's not supposed to be hot."

"OH HA-HA!" Cartman interjected.

Kyle scowled to the heavy boy, sneering, "God, you are such an attention-whore. Who invited your fat-ass anyway?"

"Shut up, I'm not fat, I'm just big-boned."

Kyle laughed, "Yeah; the day your mom's not South Park's whore."

"HEY! DON'T TALK ABOUT MAH MAHM!"

Kyle put his hands up in surrender, "Chill out, dude, you were asking for it."

Kenny snapped his boney fingers, reclaiming Kyle's attention, "Menu, garcon!"

The redhead turned around, picking up a menu from his work-station and handed it to Kenny. Kenny had come in without his sweater; he had grown a liking for turtleneck sweaters as of a few weeks ago. As Kyle reached in his back pocket for his favorite hand-rag, Cartman cleared his throat, but Kyle just continued on his business; clearing the silver surface of the bar as Cartman snorted,

"AHEM!"

Kyle looked up, resting his face in his palm as he inquired softly, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can fuckin' help me; get me a fuckin' glass of water you fuckin' Jew."

Kyle rolled his eyes, turning around and pouring him his ordered drink. He looked to Kenny, imploring cutely, "Anything caught your fancy, Mr. McCormick?"

Kenny hummed as he rubbed his chin in thought, "Well…how rocky is your Rockin' Rock N' Roll Rocky Road? Because I like my ice-cream seventy-five percent rock and the rest artificial flavoring."

Kyle laughed, simply replying, "Do you want the Rocky Road?"

Kenny chuckled, handing the menu back, "Yeah."

Stan made eye-contact with Eric, triggering an insult of course;

"What's up, fag? Haven't seen you around much. Guess you're busy humping at drama all day?"

Stan glowered, "Haven't seen you much, either. I guess those hot girls are just all over you and your big ass. Cause, like you said, girls love fat asses. I mean, we all voted for Ruben Studdard, right? He's a hot slice of ass."

They could all see the anger rising in Cartman's face as he retorted, "Well, you would know, fag."

Kyle very suddenly spoke up, turning from his work station to hand Kenny his order, "Cartman, you wouldn't know heterosexuality if your balls dropped. Stan's more man than your half-dead brain can comprehend."

Kenny laughed, "Nice one, Kyle! You're growing up to be such a wonderful come-backer. You never cease to amaze me."

Kyle grinned, "Why, thank you, Kenny. For that, your order's on me."

Kenny smiled wide, looking to Cartman and Stan, "Damn! Thanks, dude! I always forget how awesome you are!"

Stan was still blushing at the protection in Kyle's voice. Stan of course knew that Kyle would stick up for him if he hadn't a defense, but Stan had never seen Kyle snap at the fat boy like that before. Sure, in the past Cartman has said things so insensitive and politically incorrect that Kyle has snarled at him, but not so quickly. Stan thought that perhaps Kyle was developing the slight case of homophobia that he seemed to be developing. Something about the situation had flattered Stan, though.

_Stan's more man than your half-dead brain can comprehend_

Kenny randomly mentioned, "Kyle, you're lookin' kinda thin…like…thinner than me…"

The boys looked to the redhead who blushed at all the eyes turning to him. He smiled, stammering, "U-uh, no, you must be seeing things. It's probably just track making me burn off calories."

"But like…you're mad thin."

Kyle looked away, still blushing which called forth Stan's concern. Kenny simply added, "You're totally the Clay Aiken to Cartman's Studdard."

Cartman snorted, "Yeah, totally flaming."

Kyle glared to Cartman, snapping, "I'm sorry, Eric, but it seems all the cellulite is crowding around your mouth, gargling your words."

Eric scowled, "Goddamn Jew."

Kyle smirked, waving to a group of entering girls as he replied nonchalantly, "You should keep to what you're good at, Eric; breathing and stuffing your face."

Stan was worried to see Kyle's eyes widen; a horrified open. Stan followed their shocked gaze and met his with those of Wendy Testaburger. The ebony-haired, lavender fairy princess waltzed to the bar where to Stan's frustrated surprise, Kyle seemed speechless.

"Come on, Broflovski, you're not going to flirt with me like all your other fangirls?"

The redhead blushed, stuttering, "S-sorry…I mean…uhm…you want anything, Wendy?"

"I'd like to talk to you privately."

Kyle blushed again, not sparing Stan even a glance as he muttered, "Well, I'll be here till closing so…"

"So I'll wait." Wendy replied as she walked to a booth out of ear-shot.

Kyle sighed, looking to Stan who still wore that frightened expression. Stan told him, "Don't relax just yet."

Kyle looked to where Stan's eyes landed; Adam had just entered.

"Kyle?"

"Adam?"

"Stan?"

"Adam?"

"Kenny?"

"..." Kyle looked to the blonde, "…are you okay?"

Kenny shrugged, "Everyone was doing it, I just wanted to be popular."

Kyle rolled his eyes, returning them to Adam's as the brunette approached the bar, inquiring,

"Since when do you work here?"

"I started working here about four months ago."

Adam smiled, "I gotta admit, Kyle, you work that uniform."

The freckly boy blushed as Cartman perked a brow.

"Uhm…can I get you anything, Adam?"

Adam grinned, "Yeah, a chocolate shake."

Kyle nodded and as he created the dessert all eyes were on the drama member. Cartman interrogated, "So I guess you're Kyle's new boyfriend?"

Stan bit his tongue; Cartman clearly had no idea who he was talking to. Stan noted the twitch of Kyle's shoulders as Adam replied,

"Oh, if only. He's become an infamous heartthrob among the drama members."

Kyle turned around, awkwardly handing him the glass without making eye-contact as he told Cartman while looking to the redhead, "Friendly and gentlemanly, just like his role, but unfortunately for me, unlike my role, he seems completely out of reach."

Kyle finally looked up to the boy; Stan's heart punched at his ribcage as he witnessed Kyle's eyes twinkle with a sign of regret and girlish infatuation. The brunette slid his bill on the table, the moment Kyle put his hand on the money, the boy told him,

"But…I haven't given up. There's hope for me yet."

With that, he sashayed off. Cartman looked to Kyle and the rest, announcing,

"Dang…that wasn't fun. He really was gay for you."

"An infamous heartthrob? Damn, Kyle. You're just hot wherever you go."

Stan growled a sigh, calling attention to him as Kyle inquired, "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?!" Stan snapped. He lowered to an angry whisper, "What's wrong is that I fucking hate that kid and you just act all nonchalant about it all!"

"What?" Kenny and Kyle both asked, but Stan only heard Kyle's voice.

"He comes into your work hours, stalks you during rehearsal and throws himself all over you and you just act like some lovesick school girl!"

Kyle blushed, looking shocked at Stan as he replied coolly, "Whoa, Stan, I don't know what you're talking about-"

Stan raised his voice again, "Yes! Yes you do! You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're lying to me!"

The group of friends all looked to Stan and Kyle, Kyle had paled as he mumbled softly, "I'm…I don't…I uhm…"

"Exactly, Kyle! You don't know what the fuck you're doing cause you're just leading him on!"

On the same intimidated level of volume, Kyle stammered, "W-what? I am n-"

"You lied the same way when Wendy broke up with me! You pretended like you didn't know about that ass from North Park moving in on her and you lied! You lied! You lied to me!"

The group had all paled now; they never spoke of that situation. It had played out essentially how Stan had shouted. Wendy was slowly falling for another boy and Kyle saw them together on his track practices in North Park. Stan fell into an emo-daze for three months; didn't speak, eat or move. There were still fun-loving characteristics he had lost at that time he never seemed to gain back. None of them ever talked about Kyle's betrayal, seeing as Kyle had stayed by Stan's side so loyally while he was emo. Kyle had walked beside a deaf mute for those three months, but never let him be alone. He was a better friend than any of them had ever been to Stan, but still, no one mentioned how he had hid that information so consistently.

"I…I…" Kyle began to defend, but Stan shouted over him,

"No! Don't make up more of your stupid lies! You hide things from me! You're always hiding things from me!"

"I-I am not hiding things!" Kyle replied.

"DON'T LIE TO ME!"

The group looked to the charcoal-haired boy. He had rage burning in his indigo eyes; bottled anger was overflowing from him, this clearly was not about Adam.

"Stan…" Kyle tried to reach forward, tried to touch Stan's hand, but the boy pulled his limbs in and rose from his stool. He was glaring at the shocked redhead, snarling,

"Don't touch me."

They all froze for that moment; Stan was glowering at his supposed best friend, the redhead's arm was outstretched, reaching to the boy but it couldn't seem to pull back in the shock of his unfamiliar rejection. Kyle ventured,

"Stan…why are you doing this?"

Stan's head was pounding with angry and upset words, terrible things he wanted to scream and boil with. He wanted to insult the boy, he wanted to tear his hair out and rip that sad look off his face. He sneered,

"I don't know, Kyle. Maybe I should just go home."

"You don't know?" Kyle repeated.

"No, I don't. Maybe I'm just tired. I should just go home."

"You're not just tired, Stan, why did you say that to me?" Kyle pressed.

"I haven't got enough sleep, Kyle. We should just forget it."

"I can't forget that! This isn't about you needing a nap, Stan, why are you lying?" Kyle insisted.

"I'm lying?"

"You're lying!"

"Well." Stan turned on his heel, adding before he left, "Takes one to know one."

OOOOOOOOOO

"Oh Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not be but sworn my love, and I will no longer be a Capulet."

Kyle glanced to the first row where Stan would normally sit and watch Kyle's scenes, but he hadn't shown up for an hour now. Kyle looked away, contemplating aloud,

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"

Adam was standing behind their still-in-progress balcony, on a ladder as he recited,

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. Oh, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee take all myself."

Kyle sharply turned to Adam, replying sweetly,

"I take thee at thy word; call me but love, and I'll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo!"

"Adam, Kyle! I have your some of your costumes ready!"

Mrs. Herit sighed; she was clearly enthralled in the scene again. She turned to Ms. Thrunton and inquired,

"Which ones?"

"We have Romeo's get-up and Juliet's night gown."

"Oh! Perfect timing!" She looked to the boys on stage, insisting, "Go on, then! Go get your costumes!"

Adam was stepping off the ladder, and Kyle, being the gentleman he was, stopped by the ladder and helped Adam down by taking his hand for balance. Adam seemed hesitant to let Kyle's hand go at first, but Kyle was disturbed by Ms. Thrunton imploring,

"Ehm…did Stanley Marsh ever come into rehearsal?"

Mrs. Herit shrugged, shaking her head with a pout as she responded sadly, "Sorry, no. I thought he was backstage, but…I suppose he didn't come today."

Kyle sighed as he walked up the slanted walkway with Adam. He felt the brunette's eyes on him as he asked sensitively,

"I heard a bit of what you and Stan fought about…did I…I mean…"

"None of this is your fault." Kyle immediately told him.

Adam blushed, looking to Kyle as he added, "I'm not angry at you."

Adam looked away, inquiring, "But what about me?"

"What?" Kyle pressed.

"Are you angry about me? About me…just…shoving my face in your business and…being…stupid, I dunno."

Kyle smiled, placing a smooth hand on Adam's shoulder as he answered kindly,

"Of course not, Adam. You're really nice and you're really cool. You're funny and nice. I'm not angry about meeting you, Adam. If Stan's actually angry about you, which I don't think he actually is…then he needs to grow up and get used to it."

Adam looked a bit taken back, "But…I mean…he's your best friend, isn't he? Why would you…say something like that?"

Kyle took his hand back, muttering, "It's the truth. If he's angry because I like to hang out with you, then he's got a lot of growing up to do. I'm not going to stop being your friend because he doesn't like it."

Adam grinned, "I'm glad…you like to hang out with me?"

Kyle simpered, "Course I do."

They entered the changing room where Ms. Thrunton pointed to two costumes hanging on two of the four hooks by the end of the wall-mirror. She told them that the gown was for Adam and the other costume was for Kyle. She told Adam that last-minute changes were being made to the bead-work on his dress that would counter Kyle's outfit, but he would have it next rehearsal. Adam agreed and she left to their dressing and undressing. Kyle quickly assembled all of the pieces to his outfit; the dark blue tights, ballet-like shoes, his puffy pants that were hemmed with roles that had a pattern of gold-blue-gold-blue stripes. His top was the same way; puffy sleeves that were hemmed with the identical design and that design repeated around his waist and the collar of his top. Some of his silky curls hung over the pointed tops of his collar; where his puffy sleeves ended, underneath was another sleeve that ran down to his wrist. It was dark blue like the rest of the outfit, but as sealed as his tights.

Kyle looked behind him to see Adam in a white, silk gown that reached just below his knees. Kyle examined the boy's physique and noted that it was very lady-like. His legs were feminine, as were his arms. His hands weren't very boney or manly, but when you looked directly at his face you could see the signature of a boy's jaw-line. His hair was feathery like Stan's as his eyes were just as wide. Not quite as beautiful as Stan's, but certainly as charming.

"You're staring." Adam stated.

Kyle blushed, apologizing, "Sorry."

"Does it look weird?"

Kyle watched the boy turn to face the mirror, moving the white lace strap a little. Kyle replied softly,

"No. You look nice, actually."

"Nice? What does that mean?" Adam implored, distressed.

Kyle wondered a moment; this reminded him of something.

"_Uh…it's fine, Kye…"_

"_F-fine? What does that mean? Was Cartman right? Do I have nothing there? Am I like a flat board?"_

Suddenly, Kyle knew what Adam meant. He smiled to the brunette through the mirror, telling him,

"Cute. You look cute."

He watched the blood fill Adam's face; the boy tore his eyes away from Kyle's reflected ones and continued to fiddle with the lace strap of the opposite side. Kyle looked at Adam's back, noting that his back-buttons hadn't been secured correctly. He cleared his throat,

"Ehm…Adam, I'm gonna fix the back of your dress. It's a little…"

"Askew?" Adam offered in a funny accent.

"Yes," Kyle chuckled, "It's a little askew."

Kyle stepped forward, taking one of the buttons into his fingers he listened as Adam commented,

"You know…your blonde friend was right. You look mighty thin, Kyle."

Kyle ignored the statement, imploring suddenly, "Have you kissed a boy before, Adam?"

The redhead didn't look up to see what he was sure was Adam's face red as a cherry. The brunette stayed silent for a moment before replying,

"Yes, of course."

Everything fell silent again as Kyle fixed the button below that one. Adam broke the quiet,

"Have you?"

Kyle blushed, responding as he moved his chin more to his neck for better visual access to what he was doing. He told the brunette,

"No. I've never kissed anyone."

"You've never kissed someone?"

Kyle shook his head, "I never even kissed a girl who was supposed to be my girlfriend. Romance in general makes me really nervous."

Adam frowned, "That's sad."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well," Adam began, "I think a kiss is a wonderful thing. When it's with the right person, it feels perfect and it's such a random kind of gesture to symbolize love."

Kyle instantaneously defended, "No it's not. It's not random at all…I think…I think the person who first kissed the one they loved…well…they must have been the first person to fall in love. They must have felt that feeling that no one knows how to explain. There's no words to express it, so they called it love, but the word still wasn't enough. I think that because they couldn't form words, they gave their lips to the one that they loved to symbolize that no word or sound that they were capable of making could ever convey what they feel in their hearts…"

Adam flustered, "That's beautiful, Kyle. You're just like Romeo. But you're better, because you're for everyone."

"How do you mean?" Kyle interrogated.

"Well…you said you don't like romance cause it makes you nervous. You're funny, social, popular, good-looking, athletic and smart…you're talented in most everything you try and you're stealing hearts everywhere you go, but yours belongs to no one. You just let everyone around you have a sample of that perfection you so generously radiate. You love everyone, but…no one at the same time."

"Finished." Kyle stated.

"Thank you."

Kyle smiled, "Any time."


	11. The Hardest Part is Leaving You

**Thank you all reviews and PMs! It's so so so so appreciated! Hope you guys like your latest update! :D**

Stan was lying in bed, his fingers twitching among themselves as he replayed the scenes in his head.

"_He comes into your work hours, stalks you during rehearsal and throws himself all over you and you just act like some lovesick school girl!"_

"_Whoa, Stan, I don't know what you're talking about-"_

"_Yes! Yes you do! You know exactly what I'm talking about! You're lying to me!"_

"_You lied the same way when Wendy broke up with me! You pretended like you didn't know about that ass from North Park moving in on her and you lied! You lied! You lied to me!"_

"_No! Don't make up more of your stupid lies! You hide things from me! You're always hiding things from me!"_

"_I-I am not hiding things!" _

"_DON'T LIE TO ME!"_

"_Stan…why are you doing this?"_

Why indeed.

Stan cringed, one heated round of the block and he had regretted everything he said. He stared at his ceiling, unable to move or speak. He closed his eyes, remembering Wendy's sweet soprano voice admitting to him,

"_I'm sorry, Stanley…I really do like you, I do…but…you see…there's this guy I met a while back…and…I want to give him a chance."_

_Stan remembered how he glared with tears in his eyes, "Do you feel stuff for him that you don't feel for me?"_

"_Stanley," She whined, "don't make me do this with you. He's a wonderful guy and I like him a lot…"_

"_You want to kiss him?"_

"_Stanley."_

"_You want to kiss him."_

_Her brows were curved sadly, "Stanley, don't be this way…"_

"_Don't worry about me, Wendy. It's out of character."_

Stan rolled over, hoping the painful images would fall out of his ear and leak onto his pillow. His brows were furrowed, he felt so in tune with his heartache again. Three months were spent on her. Three painful months filled with nothing but the sharp pain of unrequited love. Three silent months, he didn't eat, didn't move, didn't speak, barely breathed. Three months he just listened to Kyle mutter and stammer,

"_Y-You know, Stan, she didn't deserve you. She doesn't, it's true, Stan. Believe me, Stan, you're better off without her."_

"_Please, try to eat, Stan, I went to a lot of trouble to make this for you. It would just put me at ease to see you eat something."_

"_If there's anything you want, anything at all, I'll get it for you. And if you feel like you need to talk, you come right to me, you call or run to my house or do whatever it is you need to do to get to me, or I'll come to you or…I just…I just wish you'd talk to me…"_

"_Do you want something sweet? Or we could rent a funny movie or something…I'd really like you to come out of your room. I won't try to make you eat or talk, but if you just…if just sit down with me for a while, it would help me a lot, Stan."_

Stan scowled, anger still bubbling inside him. All of that treatment wasn't out of friendship, care or even pity. It was out of guilt. Stan closed his eyes, his brain forcing him to recall,

_It would just put me at ease-- I just wish you'd talk-- it would help me a lot_

Stan sat upright, his muscles feeling anxious and restless. He hated remembering those times. They were haunting and left him less of what he used to be. It left him angry and scarred; he knew he used to smile more, he used to laugh more, he used to love a lot more. There was so much less sadness before that. He certainly was less sensitive, he never got that worked up that easily. He ran a hand through his midnight hair, breathing deeply as he rose off his bed and glanced to his clock; it was eleven-thirty, but he threw on his jacket anyway. He silently left his house.

He needed to get air.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Hiya there, girls." Kyle greeted Mary-Jane's gaggle. The brown-haired girl was nowhere to be spotted, though. Kyle inquired,

"Hey, where's Mary-Jane today?"

Her blonde friend told him, "She was absent from school today. You wanna pass a message?"

Kyle smiled softly, "Oh, no, it's okay."

They made their orders and he entertained and flirted like it was any other day. He tried to get the day prior out of his head. The way Stan scolded him and pierced him with his words. Kyle wasn't entirely 

sure of his reaction towards it all. He felt angry, definitely, but he was also sorry. He was confused and conflicted. Not only did Adam feel like he had to apologize at rehearsal that night, but Wendy had actually stayed until closing to talk to him.

"_Kyle."_

"_Uhm…Wendy…you stayed…"_

_She smirked, "I told you I would."_

"_Right."_

_She walked up to the bar, "Sorry to be so secretive and weird. I just wanted to talk to you without any disturbances."_

"_Alright…"_

_She sighed, "I want to ask you…"_

"_Yeah?"_

"…_are you gay?"_

_Kyle blushed furiously, "No! I'm not gay! Why is everyone so obsessed with my sexuality lately?!"_

_She chuckled softly, "Well…I mean…are you sure about that?"_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean…do you like Adam?"_

_Kyle flustered, his expression calming, "I…uhm…did he ask you to ask me this?"_

_She shook her head, "I'm in the drama group; I do lighting. I've been friends with him for a while, and I know he likes you."_

"_He does?"_

_She looked at him, dumbfounded, "…you are just as romantically retarded as everyone says!"_

"_Sheesh, sorry…"_

"_Anyway…I owe you, and I want to help you…maybe realize a part of yourself that you don't know yet…"_

_Kyle cocked a brow, "You owe me?"_

"_You know," She began, "with keeping my secret from Stan for so long."_

_Kyle's eyes lowered as he turned away from her. He started cleaning bowls as he muttered, "I don't want to talk about that. You don't owe me anything."_

"_You kept my secret for me, of course I owe you. I mean…you were in on it and you never let me down."_

_Kyle whipped around, "I wasn't in on anything! I didn't do anything!"_

"_Exactly! You didn't do or say anything! Just let me help you!"_

_Kyle's voice lowered again, "What are you getting at? Just come out and say it."_

"_Adam wants you. He wants to kiss you. He wants to ask you out, but you're too socially challenged for him to feel confident…"_

_Kyle blushed, looking away, "I can't change that about me…what do you want me to do about it?"_

"_Well…you said you're not gay, right?"_

"_Right."_

"_Well," She started, "have you ever kissed a boy?"_

_Kyle's face filled with more blood, "N-no."_

"_So how can you know?"_

_Kyle looked up to her, his brows carving deeply in his forehead as he mumbled, "You want me to kiss him?"_

_She simpered, "Stan's probably angry because Adam's changing that part of you…Stan can't deal with change."_

_Kyle looked away again, "You shouldn't talk about him that way. You know how deeply he cares about you."_

"_It's true, isn't it?" She insisted, "You know it's true. Whenever something converts or switches or moves he's a wreck. He just hides up in his room, pretending he doesn't exist until he can manage to go outside to throw all of his sadness and bother onto the world."_

_Kyle was saddened to find that he couldn't defend his friend any further. His heart was weak, his mind was tired and he had aches in his arms and chest. He asked Wendy,_

"_You think if I kiss Adam…I'm going to find that I'm gay?"_

_She shook her head, "It's not that simple, Kyle…I mean…I want you to kiss him…so that you might find that you are…or you might find that you 'do' feel something for him…"_

Kyle held his head to keep from getting dizzy. He was too stressed, he was too tired…he was getting too old for this. He was fourteen and he hated it. Hormones were driving him crazy, stretching out his limbs and making him doubt and cry and hyper and giddy. Being an adolescent meant to be bipolar in Kyle's mind. Growing up was just one mental illness after another. He looked at his arm as it fell from his hairline,

_I am getting thin… _

OOOOOOOOOO

"We're almost the same measurements." Adam commented.

Kyle glanced to the yellow sheets, examining the similar numbers and replying, "Yeah, I guess so. Why is everyone taller than me?"

Adam frowned, "I think you're tall."

"Yeah, but you're taller."

Adam chuckled, "Don't be so bummed out. You've got a feminine build, so you're cuter short."

"_As if, Kye, you're thin, fragile and pale with big eyes, not to mention you're shorter than me."_

Kyle blushed, defending, "I-I don't look like a girl, you butt! I'm very…uh…"

Adam popped his hip with a hand firmly planted on it, "You're very manly? You're wearing tights."

Kyle flustered more deeply, "You suck."

Adam patted his shoulder, muttering jokingly, "Doesn't matter if I suck, just what I suck."

The light green of Adam's dress flowed behind him as he pranced out of the dressing room. The dress was gorgeous and looked lovely on the boy Kyle believed. It had the puffy sleeves that led down to tighter cloth which went to his wrists. There was a thin strip of cloth just below where Juliet's breasts would have been; it had beautiful beadwork along it and the patterns reappeared along the hem of the dress and the end of the tighter sleeves. Adam was also given a head-piece much like a headband that was safety-pinned into his hair that had the identical beadwork and by the sides of the band were thin lines of white lace that also showed at the bottom of his dress and by the sides of the strip under his would-be breasts. Kyle followed him out of the room to see Stan in the middle the stage, clearly having just received his outfit and dressed on the opposite side of the backstage.

They made eye-contact and Adam could see the horror ahead. He quickly left their sights as Kyle was approached by Stan on the stage that was empty with exception to Juliet's finished balcony and the start of the orchard; Kyle thought he should speak, he thought he should breathe maybe, but found that he couldn't. He was bolted to the ground, unable to defend himself as Stan separated them only by two feet. Kyle looked up to the boy he thought he knew so well to see him with an expression that seemed a cross of a glare and a pout.

"You look pretty stupid."

Kyle's brows furrowed; were they enemies suddenly?

"What? Stupid?"

Stan sneered, "Well, I suppose you're just as stupid as you look."

Kyle's cheeks were heating up as he muttered, "Why are you saying that stuff?"

"Why did you lie to me?"

Kyle's face paled, "I…I didn't lie to you."

"You hid things from me and denied keeping secrets! That's not lying?"

Stan was glaring furiously at Kyle as he continued, "Just because you weren't saying 'Oh, there's no one in North Park making a move on your girlfriend who loves you more than anything' doesn't mean you weren't lying to me about it. You didn't tell me lies, you just didn't tell me the truth. And a Super Best Friend wouldn't do that. Any friend wouldn't."

Kyle's eyes were wide, his mouth suddenly dry,

"Why would you say that to me? I'm your best friend, aren't I?"

"You sure don't act like it."

Kyle stood frozen as Stan coldly walked past him, mumbling, "Cartman was right about you."

Kyle twisted around, fear shimmering in his eyes as he inquired, "W-what do you mean?"

Stan looked to him as Kyle interrogated, "What was he right about? That I can't play sports? That I can't celebrate Christmas? What do you mean he was right?"

"He was right that you can't do anything."

Kyle's shoulders dropped, his stomach twisted and his heart seemed to stop as he stared wide-eyed to his former friend. The ebony-haired boy simpered, "You're just a scrawny, weak attention-whore who gets off at playing hero to five-year-old girls."

Stan turned on his heel and left after that statement, not providing even a last glance to see the confusion on the boy's dumb face. Kyle watched as Adam approached him again, imploring, "Are…you okay, Kyle?"

"_H-hey, Stan…would you…uhm…we're still…super-best-friends, right?"_

"_Yeah, 'course…why?"_

"Kyle…are you okay?"

"_You're just amazing, Kye. You keep all your work organized and top of the class, your room's always spotless just like your clothes, you've got a job, you look out for your little brother, take care of your parents and all the crap they trail behind them, you're an any-hour-of-the-day best friend and you still find time to think about…making sure I'm happy during class…you just take my breath away sometimes, Kye. You're just…like…untouchable."_

"_Because…you're my best friend. You're like…a super hero. I dunno…you just make everything better when it's all rotten."_

"Kyle?"

"_You're just amazing."_

"…Kyle?"

"_You're amazing."_

"Kyle?"

"I—"Kyle gasped, "I…uhm…I don't…I don't think I can…stay…I don't…uhm…"

Adam's brows curved, "It's okay if you want to go. You can ask Ms. Herit. Just tell her your mom called or something…she'll understand."

"T-Thank you…"

OOOOOOOOOOO

Kyle felt the moist air comb through his hair as he closed his eyes. He was walking home from rehearsal and his mind was blank although it was racing.

"_You're just a scrawny, weak attention-whore who gets off at playing hero to five-year-old girls."_

Kyle scrunched his eyes tightly, trying to erase the terrible words from his memory. That didn't work, of course.

"Stan…" He muttered.

Very suddenly a memory he thought had long been forgotten reappeared in his mind's eye…

"_Stan…can you eat today? I made you a really good batch of cookies. I know you won't talk, but you don't need to thank me for it or anything…" He sighed, turning towards Stan's window. Stan had been sitting in an Indian-style position, staring blankly at his hands that were lying randomly in his lap. _

"_Will it rain today?"_

_Kyle whipped around, stammering, "W-what? What did you say? Did you just speak, Stan?"_

"_Rain. Is it going to rain again, Kyle?"_

"_Oh, God, Stan!" Kyle immediately pounced on the boy, embracing him tightly and fighting back tears as he muttered, "Oh, God, Stan, thank God you're talking again…it's been so long since you last spoke, keep talking. Tell me anything, say anything, Stan. Whatever is on your mind, just tell me…please, keep talking…"_

"_I miss her."_

_Kyle's eyes lowered, darkened even as he peeled away. Stan still didn't meet his eyes as he hadn't in months as Kyle stared at the boy for a long while. The room was completely silent although there were a million words swarming in Kyle's mind. Kyle opened his mouth, talking in a deep whisper, his hands still lightly resting on Stan's shoulders as he barely replied,_

"_Yes, Stan. It's going to rain again." _

Kyle stopped walking, his stomach twisting in agony, his head dizzying again. Why had that moment hurt him so much? Why did it sting and make him want to be sick? Why was he in this pain? All he knew was he was thinner, much thinner and he was shorter, much shorter. He was vanishing.


	12. Find Another Galaxy, Far From Here

**Thank you all reviews and PMs! Hope you like your latest update! :D**

"So who can tell me what Heliocentric means?"

"_Will you talk today, Stan? …W-Wendy came by earlier to see you…I think she really feels rotten about everything and if…if you'd go downstairs and maybe show her you're okay…then…then maybe all this…can…go away…"_

Stan cringed, remembering having to go to school in the condition he had been in.

"_What's wrong with Marsh?"_

"_Yeah, what a fucking weirdo."_

"_Do you like…cut yourself?"_

"_Yeah, do you like to bleed?"_

_Their chuckling was hitting against him and bouncing against the walls, until Kyle stepped in front of him,_

"_Shut up. None of you have a right to judge how he copes. Carter, your dad hasn't talked to you since you got fat and Sampson, everyone knows your mom's been fucking your older brother since your dad left, so instead of gossiping like middle school girls watching Living Lohan, how about you go home and try to figure out how fucked up you are."_

_A few more harsh comments and they had left, fit for fighting, but both were too shocked that Kyle knew so much about them. Kyle had looked to Stan and told him,_

"_You're shameless. Don't let them get away with that. They don't know how strong you are."_

The bell rang and Stan voomed out of the classroom. He was power-walking through the hallway when he collided with someone, knocking them to the ground. He had almost lost his footing, but gathered himself, inquiring,

"Hey, sorry, you oka—"

His silky red curls bobbed as he looked up to Stan. His books and papers were strewn around him, some still floating down; his perfect cursive could be examined on each sheet.

"Uh…Sta—"

Kyle watched as he turned sharply on his heel and stormed the opposite way. The halls were cleared as the bell rang and he found himself alone on the floor in a mess of study. Kyle looked to his thin wrist; he was pale and his chest hurt. A hand came between his eyes and the floor, when he looked up to the figure they smiled, their long raven hair shining around their pretty face.

"Come on, Kyle. I'll help you."

Kyle took her hand and heard her state, "Gosh, Kyle…you're lookin' kind of thin…have you eaten anything today?"

"N-Not yet." He muttered as she helped him up.

He dusted himself off and accompanied her to the ground where they picked up the remaining papers and books. She was smiling as she handed them to him, imploring,

"Are you okay?"

"Uhm…yes, I-I'm okay."

Her brows curved, clearly she didn't believe him, "Hey…do wanna cut lunch with me?"

He flustered at the offer, "I don't think I can. I, uhm, I never get back on time whenever I cut."

"So we won't come back."

His expression melted to flattered sadness, "Are you doing this because you owe me?"

"I'm doing this because I care about you. I want you to be happy, Kyle. You're much more handsome when you smile."

His timid smile spread a little, "Yeah. I'll see you next period, then."

"Yeah. Catch me by the gym at nine forty."

"Mmkay."

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Want to go to Dunkin' Doughnuts…or maybe Subway…Wendy's?"

Kyle smiled to her, he was slowly starting to understand why Stan fell so deeply in love with her. She was very nice, considerate and she was treating Kyle as if they did this every day. He shook his head, "Honestly, I'm not that hungry."

"But," She began, "aren't you a diabetic? I mean…aren't you supposed to eat a certain amount of food and stuff each day?"

Kyle looked away, "That's not for you to be worried about."

She frowned, "I'm sorry that Stan is treating you this way. I know exactly how that was and I always wished someone would pull me out of school and just hang out with me to get my mind off things. Or maybe talk it out."

"When he goes away for long times like this, even though he's down my street, he's a million miles away. I sometimes find it hard to breathe and hard to eat. I don't like it when he's gone."

They crossed the street, moving onto the next block as she inquired, "And he's angry over Adam?"

Kyle's brows curved more deeply, "It seems like it's more about me. I knew this would happen one day."

"What would?"

Kyle's eyes were filling with tears, "He wouldn't forgive me."

She must have noticed the water edging its way in front of his jade eyes, because she gingerly laid her hand on his shoulder, murmuring, "Kyle?"

"He was right." Two tears simultaneously dropped as his dainty hands lifted to wipe them away, he muttered, "I am weak."

She gripped his forearm and tugged him around the corner where no cars were passing. She didn't say a thing, just let him mumble and cry.

Kyle couldn't believe the loneliness consuming him. It had been only three days and he was torn apart inside. Three days and he had barely wanted to get out of bed that morning. There were angry lyrics in his head and heated argument words. He would never talk about it though. Stupid, scrawny, needy and weak; little Kyle Broflovski never so much as rose his voice to anyone. He could never battle this pain. Not when Stan has left him so alone.

"Who does he expect me to go to?"

Wendy looked to him, "Huh?"

"He knows Cartman hates me, he knows Kenny can't be trusted with any type of information…no one else knows me…no one but him…"

"He expects you to go to one of them?"

Kyle wiped at another tear, muttering, "No. He expects me to be alone. He knows what he's doing."

Her expression twisted to more concern, "What do you mean he knows what he's doing?"

"He's fought before! I can't…and he knows! He knows that I…I just…I talk to people and then I just…I can't function like everyone else! Everyone can talk for hours and they can date and kiss and hug, but I can't! I don't know what's wrong with me, but something's broken inside! Something's gone horribly wrong and he sees it…I bet he's sick of it…it's my fault I'm all alone. I'm not scared, Wendy, of dying."

Her eyes widened; no one liked that word. He continued, "I'm not scared of dying because I'm more scared of living without him."

She blushed as more tears fell from him, "He's all I have. He's all I've ever had and when he's gone my world crumbles apart right under my feet and I…I can see the abomination he sees."

She fell with him as he dropped to his knees. She still held to his arm as they rested on the side walk. She told him,

"Kyle, what you're saying is all wrong. Not telling Stan about you-know-who helped me, but…but it was selfish of us both. You're too nice, too sincere and too good of a friend to be beating yourself up like this. And I know it may not mean much, but I want you to know that you can confide in me and…and if you want to come over and talk to me or anything you can call or I'll go to your house or meet you anywhere…"

He looked up to her, smiled as best he could and murmured, "Thank you."

OOOOOOOOOO

Needless to say, when lunch rolled around Stan wondered where the boy was. He wondered why Kyle wasn't in their shared Global History class. But all of his answers came to him when he took the bus ride home to see them walking into the ice-cream parlor together. The bus window was too dirtied and he was too far to ever notice the forlorn look of Kyle's glassy eyes.

And two weeks passed this way. There was no speaking to each other, barely even looking at each other. At rehearsals Kyle tried to make it look as if he couldn't be bothered with it and found himself spending more and more time with Adam and Wendy. Kyle was determined to show Stan that was strong. He wouldn't be walked all over. He had cried for long hours, but found now that all the sorrow had been replaced with anger and frustration. He hoped that would make him colder, because if Stan was strong, then to be stronger Kyle had to turn to ice. The third week had just begun, it was a Tuesday, meaning that in four days their school production would open. Mercutio and Romeo may as well have been strangers.

OOOOOOOOOO

Kyle was standing behind the bar, wiping it down with his favorite rag as he always did when he was low on activity. The parlor had been relatively quiet the last two weeks. There were no signs of Mary-Jane or her giggly friends, and there was rarely ever any sun out. South Park had been dominated by scattered thunderstorms. During on the week prior, Kyle had been in his room studying and thunder struck so close that his room shook slightly. Kyle decided there were bad omens 'trying' to find him; as if he needed to feel worse. The bell chimed and he looked up to see Wendy there. She made him smile as she approached the bar, inquiring,

"You okay today?"

"Yeah." He replied, "You'll be there opening night right?"

"Of course. Are you excited?"

He sighed, "Not exactly. I'm just relieved that this will be over soon."

She smirked, "You know, you never apologized for getting me sick."

He chuckled, "I'm very sorry, Wendy."

She laughed softly, "That was mostly a joke, so don't worry about it."

"Ugh," Kyle groaned as he took off his hat and apron, "No work today, somehow I still get stuck here for hours."

"You look nice in formal clothes."

"Thank you, Wendy."

Before conversation to slowly carry on the little bell rang again, followed by a bang of thunder that sounded a little further off. Kyle recognized the group as Mary-Jane's friends. He grinned, looking forward to seeing her baby-face, but again found that she was not among them. As the blonde stepped up to the bar he implored,

"Hey, where's Mary-Jane?"

Some of the girls glanced to Wendy who was looking to them too, but they seemed to be uncomfortable and waiting. Kyle wondered what an expression like that was doing on their young faces, until his heart skipped a beat. They were all in black.

"…where is she?"

The blonde sighed and Kyle finally realized the red puffiness around her eyes, "She really wanted to thank you for always taking care of her. We came here as a dedication to her. She loved coming here, it was her little escape."

Kyle's pupils shrank, his heart throbbing back into action as he muttered, "W-when? W-where—why?"

The blonde frowned again, "They did it for the insurance money. My mother always told me their poverty would be the end of them. Money truly is the root of all evil."

Kyle's face paled, his chest hurt and his head was dizzying again. He felt tears begging to reach his eyes again; he hadn't grown strong. He hadn't ever been strong. He was too weak to protect even a little girl like Mary-Jane.

"_He was right that you can't do anything."_

He couldn't do anything.

He settled his thin, pallid arm on the bar and threw himself over the ring. He ran out into the front of the parlor, thinking he might be sick. Wendy had followed him, but stopped before she reached his side. He looked up to see why she had stopped; there was Stanley Marsh who must have been walking home and stopped to see Kyle wilting away. The redhead glared to him as thunder crashed from far away, grey clouds just moving in,

"I knew you were a liar, but a backstabber; didn't think Wendy was into guys who can't stand on their own."

Wendy scowled to him, "Don't start, Stanley."

His name slipping from her mouth boiled the anger in him again and it was only appropriate to take it on the pale, freckly Romeo,

"What? You can't defend your woman?"

The thunder crashed a little louder, a little closer as Stan sneered,

"Tch—you can't even defend yourself."

"SHUT UP!" Kyle screamed as the thunder banged. He looked up to Stan, tears filling his eyes as he barked,

"I don't deserve this! You're right, Stan, I lied! I lied to you! I hid things and protected Wendy's secret! I failed you, Stan! I failed you terribly! But you never stopped to think how much that killed me, Stan!"

Stan cocked a brow as tears rolled down the boy's face, he sneered harshly,

"I stood by your side no matter what state you were in! You cried and hid in your room, you wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat and I took care of you for three months! Three Goddamn months, I tortured myself and died every time I looked at you and your sad eyes! I promised myself I would make it up to you, for the one fucking lie I never told you! I cooked, I baked, I cleaned, I loaned, I studied and I even worked on becoming more social for you to be happy! Do you know how hard that was for me?! Can you really realize how scared I get?!" Kyle paused to in take a shaky breath, "No! You wouldn't, would you? Because you were too concerned with you-you-you-you! Always you! Always your heartache and your pain! You never gave a shit if I was okay or not, if I was tired or hungry, but I forgave you because I deserved it! I maintain my grades, I keep my room clean and my laundry's always done, I make myself a good example for my younger brother, I make myself a good neighbor for my customers, I make myself a good son for my parents, and I try my very hardest to be the best friend I could be for you! I tried to be the best human being…" Kyle wept, covering his mouth as rain started to drizzle on them, "I tried to be the perfect human being…just for you…so no matter what…you could trust me…but that wasn't enough. Because no matter what I do, all you ever worry about is you."

Stan's heart hadn't moved at all; he had never seen Kyle cry before. Stan was about to open his mouth when Kyle looked up at him,

"You were right, though…I couldn't be strong for anyone. I've always needed to be protected, I've never been strong. But I told you every day how wonderful you are, no matter what it was and all you ever said was 'thank you'. That's proof enough. There was nothing kind to ever be said for a weakling like me."

The rain was finally pouring, sticking Kyle's white collared shirt to him and blending in with Kyle's sobs. Lightening struck after another shaking boom of thunder as Kyle's fists let loose and he turned away, storming off from the them both, from the parlor. Stan looked wide-eyed to Wendy, who left to chase after him. Kyle was right.

It was raining again.


	13. Sing Me One Last Song, Louder, Louder

**Kind of short. Sorry, I'll be back soon with more. Probably tomorrow. Hope you like your latest update! :D Thank you all reviews and PMs!**

"_Doesn't matter if it's me or not. You're my best friend, Stan and I wouldn't be able to move onto the next day if I didn't have you. So when you're sad, it makes me worry. I want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to fix it for you, because I care about you being happy. I want you to be happy."_

"_Kye…thanks, dude. That's…uhm…sweet."_

No…no, that couldn't be right.

"_He could never take your place. No one ever could. You are the most important person to me, Stan. No Adam-kid could ever take me away, okay?"_

"…_thank you, Kye."_

He couldn't have stayed that silent, it was impossible. He had to have said more than thank you…

"_I think you're divinely humane."_

"_Thank you."_

…no

"…_did you bring this for me?"_

"_Depends; do you like it?"_

"_I love it…"_

No…

"_I know it's retarded and whatever, but…I'm really glad that you're my best friend."_

Speak! Why didn't he ever say more?!

"_Imagine…imagine I died today…what would you do, Kye?"_

"_I would miss you."_

"_Thank you…"_

Stan banged his fist on the tiled shower wall. He was glaring at the water slipping over his whitened knuckles.

The rain had passed and it was a misty, foggy day. The day after would be the same, but the news anchors promised that their opening performance would be free of any rain clouds. Stan doubted that, 

but he had much more important matters to deal with. As he walked from the bathroom to his room and closed the door, his brows furrowed he muttered to himself,

"Have I…never told him…"

Told him what?

Stan's heart wrenched. What was it that he wanted to say? His mind shook in fear for a moment, and he realized that veil in his heart had been moved slightly. That question had triggered a shift, whatever was behind that veil was the answer, it was the key to complete that sentence, but he was too frightened to lift it.

"…_but the king's brother never spoke of his love for the wife. And when she was dying in his arms, he wasn't ashamed that he loved his brother's wife, he wasn't scared of seeing the life leave her eyes, he wasn't even frightened to follow her to where she was going…what he was most frightened of was the selfish fear that prevented his vocal cords to vibrate and express himself. He was horrified to find that he could still not confess his love, and now she never would know."_

_The boy looked up to Stan from the book, "Will you still not talk today?"_

Stan covered his ears, hoping Kyle's sorrowful voice would leave his memory and his hunted words would print on his hands with Kyle's worried lips that matched his worried eyes. His beautiful, emerald eyes that hypnotized Stan, making him dance and smile and trust. That grinning face, that memory of his eyes vibrant and lively, loving and content when he finally spoke was replaced with their angry glow from the other day. His eyes illuminated like acid green, but they were hurt and they clashed with the smoky grey of the sky that day; the snow reflected the blackened sky, making his eyes the only source of life. But they were filled with hate and tears. Tears that Stan had brought to him. Hate he felt for Stan.

"_No! You wouldn't, would you? Because you were too concerned with you-you-you-you! Always you! Always your heartache and your pain!"_

" _I tried to be the perfect human being…just for you…so no matter what…you could trust me…but that wasn't enough. Because no matter what I do, all you ever worry about is you."_

"_You were right, though…I couldn't be strong for anyone. I've always needed to be protected, I've never been strong." _

"_There was nothing kind to ever be said for a weakling like me."_

No…no, that wasn't right.

Surely it was a nightmare, just another daydream of Stan's that had gone terribly wrong. Surely Kyle Broflovski didn't actually believe that about himself.

"_He was right that you can't do anything."_

"_You're just a scrawny, weak attention-whore who gets off at playing hero to five-year-old girls."_

"_I knew you were a liar, but a backstabber; didn't think Wendy was into guys who can't stand on their own."_

"_Tch—you can't even defend yourself."_

"No!" Stan snarled to himself, tightening his hands around his ears. His jaw was tight, tears burning the back of his eyes, regret leaving a less than pleasant aftertaste on his pallet. He barked to himself,

"He was overbearing! He was self-absorbed! He was annoying like his mom! He was obnoxious! A smart-ass! A liar!" Stan opened his angry eyes to his mirror and looked to his reflection. His expression melted into a strange kind of shock or horror. His eyes lowered, saddened; what monster had he become? What had made him so angry? What made him so confused?

He looked to the timid shine his shower had left on his torso as he admired his strength in the mirror. Not a hair on him, chiseled wonderfully from sports and healthy habits. He met his own eyes and realized his strength meant nothing if his strong arms could not carry Kyle, if his boyish, experienced hands could not protect Kyle. Stan closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He wanted to confront these repressed memories. He wanted to replay those three painful months and find something. He didn't know what it would be; disdain dripping from Kyle's lies or a moment spent alone. He rewound to that scarring time and remembered;

"_Stan?" Kyle's voice rang from behind the bedroom door. Stan did not answer, did not move, didn't even raise his eyes to the motion of the hinges stretching and opening the door. Kyle's gaze settled on the ebony-haired boy, "…Stan." Kyle said sadly. When he had said Stan's name he sounded like he was at a funeral. He sounded like he was worried and trying to be happy. He sounded like he was saying good-bye. He sounded like he regretted something._

"_Stan, your mom called me and…she told me you haven't…uhm…you haven't been well. I wanted…I wanted to come and see you. I wanted to…make sure…you'd, uhm…be okay."_

_Stan didn't reply as Kyle's fingers twitched in the resentful silence. Kyle stepped forward after a few long moments, walking over to Stan who sat at the edge of his bed. His charcoal hair was falling over his face, shadowing his stoic, unreadable expression. His head was hung lazily, his back curved strangely, but Kyle still approached without hesitation. He kneeled down, finding a spring-like balance on his knees as his feet stayed planted on Stan's carpeted floor. He tried to meet his eyes with Stan's, but when he realized that Stan would not cooperate he rose his pale, lanky arms and wrapped them around Stan's neck, pressing their chests together and gripping him tightly._

"_I won't leave."_

Stan had forgotten those promised words until now. That first day, Stan never could have known just how seriously Kyle meant that.

"_Come on, please get out of bed, Stan." Kyle's voice requested sweetly, "I made double fudge brownies I'm sure you'd love. I won't try to make you talk or anything, but if you just come and sit down to have a nibble at my amazing brownies, I think they might do you some good."_

_Stan looked up to see Kyle's girlish hand spread before him, his face smiling and inviting. Stan slowly lifted his pallid arm, giving Kyle his hand. He watched the smile spread on Kyle's face as Kyle tightened his hand around Stan's, helping him out of bed. He didn't let go of Stan's hand as they descended the stairs, he didn't let go as they walked into Stan's kitchen and took the white china dish with his warm brownies on top, he didn't let go as they walked into the living room and sat on the couch. Kyle didn't let go as he took one of the treats with his opposite hand and put it right before Stan's mouth. He didn't let go of Stan's hand the rest of that day, or that night. He took Stan to bed at a reasonable hour, turned the television to Stan's favorite show; Most Shocking Videos on SpikeTV and stayed with Stan until he fell asleep. _

That was the first time Stan had eaten in those three months. Stan had forgotten how good those brownies were, and how good they felt that day. He had forgotten how wonderful it was to have Kyle holding his hand that day, never having to awkwardly say good-bye or shout upset words.

"_I'm glad you're speaking again, Stan. Do you want to talk today or do you want to be quiet today?"_

"_I want to talk today." Stan replied nearly inaudibly._

"_That makes me happy, Stan. It took a month and two weeks, but I'm glad I've finally convinced you." Kyle simpered, placing his hand over Stan's that laid loosely on the kitchen table, "You can talk about anything you want."_

"_I miss her."_

_He remembered Kyle's brows curving, but for some reason could not remember his eyes. Kyle's lips were thick and sad as he muttered, "Is that what you want to talk about?"_

"_No."_

"_So why would you say that?"_

"_That's all that's on my mind."_

_Kyle inquired softly, "Have you cried?"_

"_No."_

"_Do you want to cry?"_

"_No."_

_Kyle's grip tightened a little, "That's good."_

"_I don't want to speak anymore today. I just want to sleep."_

_He could feel the sense of disappointment radiating from the other boy as he replied, "U-uh, okay. That's fine. I'll take you up now, then."_

Stan had forgotten that forlorn look in Kyle's beautiful jade eyes. He had forgotten the sadness in Kyle's voice. Stan was dressed now, sitting on the side of his bed. He opened his eyes, staring blankly ahead. Why hadn't he ever noticed…

OOOOOOOOOO

"Oh, God…"

Wendy planted a fearful hand on Kyle's shoulder. He was looking to a gravestone that read

**Miss Mary-Jane Nicole Whittle**

Remembering is an act of resurrection, each repetition a vital layer of mourning, in memory of those we are sure to meet again.

**1995 - 2008**

Wendy was at a loss for words, assuring him, "Kyle, it's said all the time, but she is in a better place. A place where parents love their children and a place where she's going to be getting three meals a day, where she's going to patiently wait for you to thank you, Kyle."

She could see the desperate sadness enveloping his sight as she insisted, "Kyle, this is not your fault. This could never be your fault. You did nothing but help that girl as best you could—"

"As best I could. That wasn't good enough."

"Oh, God, Kyle," She pressed, "please, don't blame yourself for this, Kyle…you never could have known. You were never expected to protect her—"

"She was this light in my life," Kyle began slowly, "she was this bubbly source of happiness and innocence. She was pretty and smart and humble and…so, so innocent. She was this constant source of...strength for me...she made me feel like I could protect someone. She made me feel like I could help someone, since I couldn't help myself. She gave me control and contentment in a world that gave me lies and Stan. She deserved so much more than this…and I thought I could help, I thought I could bring something good into that poverty-stricken life…but I just led her on."

"_Exactly, Kyle! You don't know what the fuck you're doing cause you're just leading him on!"_

He slowly knelt down, brushing his hand against the new stone. Tears were filling his eyes again, his heart was aching and it killed him inside to know that someday her plaque would just be a cracked slab of cement, forgotten and pushed into history as another unfortunate turn of events.

"I can't have that."

"What?" Wendy implored softly.

Kyle gazed at the carved name, running his fingers over it as he mumbled, "I won't let her be forgotten. She will always be in my heart."

Seeing and feeling her name, knowing she was six feet below his very position was the last thought that made his tears fall. They dripped down his ghostly, freckled face and onto the dark grey of her memorial as he smiled, his eyes desperately sad as he muttered his last words to her,

"I won't leave you."


	14. Ignorance Was Bliss

**Hey there! New chapter, hope you review and like it! Again, thanks to all reviews and PMs so far, I hope you like your latest update! **

Stan was lying on his back, his arms behind his head as he stared at his ceiling. It hurt him to remember those three months, but for that entire day he had done nothing else but sit in his room and recollect. Reflect. He noticed that no matter what time it was, no matter where he was or what day it was, Kyle was there. In each memory, the redhead made an appearance, begging him to leave his room or just have a bite to eat or just utter a sentence. He would hold Stan's hand, or lay him to bed…

"_You hair is getting awful long, Stan. We should get it cut."_

_Kyle was taking a brush to Stan's bed-head; Stan was sitting in front of his mirror, planted on the end of his bed as Kyle sat behind him on his knees and brushed through the knots. Stan muttered nearly silently,_

"_Why?"_

_Kyle's expression didn't change as he sighed and replied, "Well, it's a waste. We can't have you hiding that sexy face, Stan."_

_There was a short silence until Stan made an involuntary noise. Kyle looked down, "Stan?"_

_There was no response as a smile curled onto Kyle's face, "Stan, did you just laugh?"_

_There was still no reply as Kyle's face was dominated by an enthused grin, "Did you just laugh cause I said sexy?"_

_Finally Stan burst into laughter; his eyes were no longer sad but crunched closed in fierce chuckling. His cheeks were no longer pale, but filled with pink and his charming smile had returned to his face. Kyle was overcome with joy, gripping Stan in a choking embrace, "Ah! You're laughing! I got you to laugh!" _

_They fell back, Stan's hysterical laughter lasting a long few minutes until it slowly died out to broken giggles. He could feel Kyle breathing against his back. He turned his face to the right and met Kyle's nose with his own, "How long has it been since I laughed?"_

_Kyle rested his forehead against Stan's, both still smiling as he replied, "Three months."_

"_Three months?"_

"_Three months. It could've been much shorter had I known all I had to do was call you sexy."_

_Stan chuckled, bringing one arm over Kyle's chest to half-hug him. Kyle brought an arm from behind Stan's shoulders and brushed his cheek lightly. Kyle inquired, "Are you tired? Do you want me to put you to bed?"_

_Stan lowered his eyes, muttering, "No. I want to go outside."_

_He could practically feel Kyle's heart skip a beat, "R-Really, Stan? You want to go outside?"_

"_Yeah," He grinned, "I wanna go outside."_

_Kyle's eyes shimmered with thanks and overwhelming elation, Stan was even quite sure he could see tears forming before Kyle turned on his side, wrapping Stan in a hug as he replied, "D-Definitely! We can definitely go outside! Y-you wanna go to the park, or to the playground at school or your backyard or do you just want to walk around—"_

"_Anywhere, Kyle. Park sounds good."_

_Kyle tore away, ecstatic happiness displayed in his voice, eyes and expression as he let his arms slide down and grip Stan's wrists. Kyle jumped up, taking Stan with him and agreeing, "G-Great! I-I'll go tell your mom we're going out a-and then we'll leave right away!"_

_Stan simpered, "Heh, let me get my shoes on first."_

_Kyle let go of his hands, blushing, "S-sorry! I guess I got excited or whatever!" He scratched the back of his head nervously, adding, "Alright, w-well I'm gonna go…tell your mom now. I'll be back up in a second!"_

_He raced to the door and just as Stan was reaching for his shoes he heard Kyle say his name. He looked to the threshold and Kyle was standing there, his fingers fiddling in the middle of his chest as he told the boy,_

"_I'm…I'm so glad you're feeling better, Stan."_

Stan smiled to himself, flustering a little. He liked that memory. That felt good to remember. The laughter and pleasure in Kyle's voice, the happy glint in his aquamarine eyes…

There was one memory, however, that kept butting its ugly head in Stan's mind's eye. It hurt, but it felt as if there was something in that memory that Stan hadn't noticed yet. He felt like it kept coming back to him because he had to realize something. He didn't know what, but he wanted to find it soon because the sharp pain it caused his heart was growing too much…

"_Do you want to talk today?"_

_Stan was lying in bed, on his side as to face Kyle but not look at him. The redhead was sitting next to his bed, pretzel-style and holding his ankles. Stan could see the boy's profile when he looked up, sitting directly next to his bedside. Stan muttered back,_

"_She's gone, isn't she? She left. Like everyone."_

"_What?" Kyle implored softly._

"_Everyone leaves in the end. We're born alone, we're lucky if we don't live completely alone…not that it will do much good, cause we all die alone. Everyone leaves."_

_Kyle faced the ebony-haired boy completely, his eyes terribly sad as he responded, "N-no, Stan…"_

"_Everyone has a contract to love…she decided I didn't meet her standards and left without a second thought…"_

"_No, Stan." Kyle pressed; he brushed away Stan's dark hair from his face, resting his cool cheek against Stan's as he continued, "My love doesn't have a contract, Stan. It has no obligations, no expectations, no end…for you, Stan, my love is unconditional. I'm not going anywhere, I'll never leave you."_

_There was a heavy silence until Kyle's shaky voice ventured, "S-Stan? Do you hear me? I'm not leaving. I'll never leave. You don't have to live alone, you don't have to die alone, I'll always be here. I'm not going. I'm never going, Stan. You can depend on me, Stan…"_

_The boy still stayed silent as Kyle sounded as if he was fighting back tears, his lashes were tickling Stan's cheek as he muttered almost inaudibly, "I will always love you, Stan. There's nothing that could take me or that away. Not even death, Stan. I'll always be here. By your side, Stan, till the very end."_

_Stan closed his tired eyes as Kyle added, "I swear to you. I'll be here till the end." _

Stan opened his eyes; what was it that he was missing? What was his subconscious trying to tell him? He looked to the digital clock on his bedside table; it read twelve-twelve P-M in hot green. Green like his ex-friend's vibrant eyes. Jade like the valleys and Emerald Cities in Kyle's eyes. The lime amulets that swirled like acid smoke, twisting and tying beautiful shades of jungles and ivy in glowing rings of irises…glaring at him.

He sat upright, sighing…

"_S-Stan? Do you hear me? I'm not leaving. I'll never leave."_

"_I will always love you, Stan. There's nothing that could take me or that away."_

"_I won't leave."_

"_You're my best friend, Stan and I wouldn't be able to move onto the next day if I didn't have you"._

"_I want you to be happy."_

"_You are the most important person to me, Stan. No Adam-kid could ever take me away…"_

"_I'm not going anywhere, I'll never leave you."_

"_I'll always be here. I'm not going. I'm never going, Stan"._

"_I'll always be here. By your side, Stan, till the very end."_

"_I am not letting you get away."_

Stan blushed…

"_I'll never leave."_

"_Nothing could take me away."_

"_I won't leave."_

"_No Adam-kid could ever take me away."_

"_I'll never leave."_

"_I'm never going."_

"_I'll always be here."_

"_I'll always be here."_

"_I will always love you, Stan."_

Stan's face turned a bright red, his heart thumped, his eyes opened wide. Kyle's thick lips mouthed in his mind's eye as his gentle voice sounded,

"_I will always love you, Stan."_

"_Stan, I will always love you."_

"_You, Stan, I will always love."_

"_Always love you, Stan, I will."_

"_I will always love you."_

"_I will love you."_

"_I love you."_

Suddenly, all the noise in his head was gone. It was silent except for the low, deep pound of his heart. The veil was twitching away, slowly revealing what he never wanted to know. The one thing he swore he would keep unknown to himself, the one part of himself he knew would be ugly and putrid. That veil was falling away, but he couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop it anymore.

"I…love you…"

The veil dropped and flashes of Kyle screamed in his mind. His smile, the wind tugging on his silky curls, his flustered, freckly cheeks, his bleach-white teeth, his thin hands, his corny jokes, his lanky arms, his laugh, his wonderfully curved back, the shadows that danced along his collarbone and neck, his cute nose, his strong legs, his teary eyes--

_ Kyle laughing out, "You're funny."_

"_Funny?"_

"_Yeah. You can always make me laugh."_

"_Kick ass!"_

"_I thought this play was going to be the most degrading event of your life?" _

"_Not if I'm a hot romantic who gets to stab guys."_

"_You never cease to amaze me, Kye."_

"_I know; there's no amount of gloating that can do justice to just how awesome I am."_

"_You're just too charming, you know that?"_

"_I think it's funny when you're possessive about me, Stan. It's flattering."_

"_You're just jealous that I don't give you free shit cause you're pretty."_

"_Wake up, sleeping beauty."_

"…_how early did you get up this morning?"_

"_About five. Why?"_

"_You got up at five A-M to make me cookies?" _

"_You were out today, I was worried about you."_

"_Hey, would you kill a guy to avenge me?"_

"_Duh."_

"_You can let go now…"_

"_What did you say?"_

"_I…I don't want to…" _

"_And if…if I am damned for having been born into sin, like your people say…then…then I know I was blessed with your friendship."_

"_I DO NOT! I DO NOT SOUND LIKE HER! DON'T SAY THAT! TAKE THAT BACK!"_

"_Y-You know, Stan, she didn't deserve you. She doesn't, it's true, Stan. Believe me, Stan, you're better off without her."_

His eyes were wide in realization. He was right. He was better off without her, because he had Kyle. He had Kyle Broflovski, skinny jeans and all. He had Kyle Broflovski, the therapist who nursed him back to 

humanity when he lost his heart and hope. He had Kyle Broflovski, his perfect body and perfect brain, perfect loyalty and perfect heart. He had the angel of all the was good and OCD.

"_I will always love you."_

"_I love you."_

"I love…Kyle…"

He had Kyle Broflovski, the idol of his heart. He had Kyle Broflovski, the one he lusted for, the one he pined after. And that God of his heart, that monarch of his soul told him himself that he would always be there for Stan to run back to. He would always be there for Stan to crawl back to. He would always be there to accept Stan regardless of his behavior. He would forever, love Stan unconditionally.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Kyle was sitting in his room, his back against his door. He was alone, listening to the dreadfully slow ticking of the clock above the entrance to his room he rested against. He couldn't feel anything, his heart was tired, his mind was heavy and fogged with lost thoughts that lead to nowhere. He hoped a coherent sentence or concept would form at some point. Unfortunately his cognition was nothing but worn-out labyrinths that he was too fatigued to follow. There was a sudden knock on his door; a little knock.

"Ike?"

"Can I come in?"

Kyle stood, opening the door for his little brother. The black-haired boy stood before the redhead, requesting, "I kind of wanted to talk to you."

"Definitely, come on in."

Kyle closed the door once the young boy entered; he turned to watch his tiny feet patter across the floor and onto his bed. Ike kicked legs calmly against the side of Kyle's bed, fiddling with one of his books on his bedside table before sighing and inquiring,

"Why are you sad?"

Kyle flustered, "What would make you think I was sad?"

"Why hasn't Stan been over?"

His fluster darkened as his expression melted to a lazy glare, "He just…hasn't been over."

"You two had a fight, I guess."

Kyle looked to the boy-genius, "I always underestimate you."

"Of course you do, I'm your younger brother."

Kyle smiled, "Well, I'm sure you thought out your entire psychoanalysis of me before coming in, so give me your best shot."

Ike snorted, "Sheesh, kinda cold, Kyle."

"Well?"

Ike's smile died out, "I haven't. I don't…really like to think about you and Stan fighting."

"…huh?"

Ike looked to his brother, telling him, "You know…when you were a little kid…you didn't know what it meant to be a mom or a dad, but you just knew that your Mom was your mom and your Dad was your dad and they belonged together and when they weren't…everything was all wrong. Well…ever since I was a baby…you and Stan have always been together…and when you're fighting like this…" Ike paused, thinking on his words before stating, "It's always just been a natural thing for me. Like Mom and Dad. Stan and you…the way he makes you smile and the way you'd even tolerate playing with me when he was around…and…well, now you're fighting and…" Ike looked up to him again, "everything's all wrong this way. Stan should be here. He should be here making you smile and talk to me. But instead you're in your room…sulking."

Needless to say, Kyle was shocked. He was looking saucer-eyed at the young boy as Ike continued,

"And sulking…is…weak."

Kyle took a step back, more pain stabbing at his dead nerves as Ike finished, "But I can see it when he's here…when you two are together…"

"See what?" Kyle inquired.

Ike smiled, "He makes you strong."

Kyle blushed furiously, "That's…that's not…uhm…"

"Do you love him?" Ike interviewed.

The blush spread, "W-what?!"

Ike shrugged, laughing, "Heh, nevermind. It's just like Mom and Dad."

Kyle let his tense shoulders fall as his little brother walked up to him, "Kyle. I want you to know that I never saw you as weak."

Their eyes locked and Ike continued, "You took care of everyone all day of every day and never complained. You always gave without ever expecting a thing in return. I want you to know that even if no one else notices, I notice what good care you take of me and everyone."

Kyle's nerves were slowly being brought back to life, his heart feeling a bit lighter than before as Ike told him, "It's certainly an unlikely…even an insufferable thing…to always do right." Ike's eyes lit up a bit before he finished, "But you were always strong enough to pursue perfection, always looking out for everyone else's best interests. That one lie you told is nothing. You've proven yourself strong taking responsibility for it and bringing Stan back. You've done more than you've ever needed. And I'm proud of you."

Kyle leaned down, bringing his brother in a tight hug, "Thank you, Ike. You don't know what that means to me. You've helped me so much, Ike. Someday I'll be mature enough to tell you how I feel right now, but for now…thank you."

They broke their hug, Ike patting his brother's shoulder, "Don't thank me for something you should know is true."


	15. Say Goodnight to a Closing Skyline

**Very short, sorry. Hope you guys like your latest update!**

**BY THE WAY: THANK YOU REVIEWERS, IT IS SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO APPRECIATED! :D**

"_Are you up?" _

_Stan opened his eyes to his bedroom door to see Kyle entering with the vacuum. The redhead was smiling gently as his gaze was met with Stan's. The ebony-haired boy rolled over, his back facing his friend. He wondered if that smile had gone away from Kyle's face, but did not dare look back to investigate. _

"_Well, frankly, Stan, your room is a disaster and this is no environment for you to be healing in."_

_There was a long silence until Stan felt air whip around his sides; he turned sharply to see his friend carrying him bridal-style, _

"_I know you won't speak, but that means you can't object. I'm putting you in the living-room until your bedroom his clean again."_

_Stan glared, flustered as Kyle muttered, "It's been ages since we've been able to see your floor, Stan."_

_Kyle carried him down the stairs, gingerly placing him on the sofa. Stan was still scowling at the boy, so as to show him that he should be in good spirits the redhead leaned over, running his lanky hand through Stan's hair and telling him,_

"_You'll like it, I promise. Your clothes will be wear-able, your homework will be organized, you desk will be clear, your floor will be visible…everything is much clearer once you get all the muck out of the way."_

Stan was sitting in class, his leg twitching restlessly.

He was a little anxious.

He had discovered something terrible.

He was in love.

He was anticipating his lunch hour, unable to control the stupid dialogues in his head. Some consisted of well-worded, even poetic avowals of love, some were less realistic, graceless confessions of Stan's physical attraction that formed the day Kyle was doubting his physique. He closed his eyes, imagining Kyle's perfectly carved face smiling to him, offering him something sweet to keep him awake. He daydreamt of entering the cafeteria to find that Kyle welcomed him with open arms, assuring him that he knew Stan would come crawling back, he knew Stan was mistaken, he knew Stan would fall for his display of pathetic belief in his proclaimed fragility.

"Marsh?"

Stan snapped back into reality, "W-what?"

His teacher glared, a hand on her hip as she responded coolly, "The fall of the Byzantine Empire may not be of concern to you now, but come finals you'll be oh-so sorry you were falling asleep during my less-than-satisfying forty-two minutes spent with you each day."

"…what?"

She breathed out steam, "Just go back to sleep, Marsh."

The bell rang in that moment, signaling Stan's fidgety legs to shoot up and fly him down the halls. He was charging towards the cafeteria, stopping when he heard Wendy's voice. He turned behind him to see four boys and a teacher running out of their classroom. He walked towards Wendy who stood in the doorway,

"Wendy."

She turned to him, her expression turning from horror to disgust.

"What do you want?"

"What's going on?"

He peaked over her shoulder and saw his redheaded deity lying on the floor. He pushed passed Wendy, imploring to her,

"What the fuck happened?!"

He rushed to the boy's side to find he was unconscious and terribly pale. Wendy told him,

"H-he hasn't been eating."

Stan looked to her and spat, "What?"

"He…he hasn't been eating or taking his shots…he's…"

The nurse came in with the four boys who Stan had seen running out with the teacher. She ordered them to pick Kyle up and take him to the nurse's office, announcing they would take him to a hospital nearby.

"Can anyone call his parents? Does anyone have their number?"

"I do." Wendy and Stan replied in unison.

"I'll do it." Wendy ordered as she whipped out her cell phone.

The nurse waved her off, "Thank you, Wendy. Come in my office after you've gone that."

With that she left with the teacher and four boys. Stan scowled at her,

"What do you think you're doing?"

He wasn't expecting an answer, he turned to go with them and felt Wendy grab his arm. He looked back at her as she sneered,

"This is your fault. Don't go."

"Don't go? Why the Hell shouldn't I?"

"He doesn't want you there."

He paled.

"What do you mean he doesn't want me there?"

She sighed shakily, "He doesn't want you to worry about him. Look, Stanley, he's confided in me these past…like…three weeks, okay? He doesn't plan on talking to you again. He doesn't plan on seeing your face again. He says he's strong on his own and he's determined to prove that to you."

Stan interrupted her, "W-what? T-that doesn't sound like Kyle…that…wait…" He paused, staring at her dangerously, "What do you mean this is my fault?"

Her eyes were low with repel as she told him, "He's been devastated. He wants to be strong, Stanley, but this is the first time he's been alone. Even when you were…basically gone…he took care of you, and he felt like that made him stronger. You told him that he was weak. The one person that ever meant anything to him and somehow it's befitting."

"Befitting?"

A vengeful smirk replaced her deep frown as she told him, "You know how it always goes; you don't know what you've got till it's gone. Without you, he breaks down. He can't do anything he usually does perfectly like he always has." She paused, "Because you got rid of him, he lost the one thing that makes him so perfect. You lost the only one who was ever strong enough to carry your burden."

Stan's eyes widened in hurt, "My…burden?"

"Face it, Stanley, you're just a juggernaut of problems and drama. He was always the only one who could stand it. He was the only one who forgave you for it…" She sighed, "He's the only one who loved you for it."

She walked past him, harshly brushing against his arm as she stormed out muttering, "I have people to call now. Don't go near him. He doesn't need your problems right now."

Stan stood frozen as she left him the only one in the classroom. His chin fell to his chest, staring at his feet…

_That was selfish. I was selfish to think I could come back so easily…she's right. I've been selfish…_

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Kyle? Kyle are you okay? Kyle, can you hear me?"

His vision was blurry as he mumbled back, "W-whuh?"

"He's conscious!"

Kyle turned his head on what he now realized was a pillow to see a pixilated figure with dark hair approaching.

"Stan?"

"Not exactly." Wendy's voice replied sweetly.

He simpered weakly, "Wendy…wheh…where am I?"

Everything came into clarity and he could see the sorrowful expression on her face as she told him,

"You're in the hospital. You haven't been taking care of yourself. You passed out during math class."

His brows curved as he inquired feebly, "I didn't…faint in front of everyone…did I?"

She giggled, "No, Kyle. You put your head down and passed out; Ms. Roberts thought you were sleeping and pretty much had a panic attack when you wouldn't wake up."

He chuckled as best he could, "That's funny. Is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Don't go worrying about her now."

"KYLE KEHAT BROFLOVSKI!"

Kyle's eyes shut in fear as he whispered to Wendy, "Don't let her talk to me."

"W-what?"

"Don't let her in!"

"What if she asks me why?!"

"Tell her I died!"

"OH, YOU ARE IN FOR IT, MISTER!"

Wendy was pushed away by the screaming, bubbly woman. She seemed furious as she barked,

"WHAT IN THE WORLD WERE YOU THINKING?!"

Kyle glared to Wendy, "…you failed me."

The woman blocked Wendy completely out of his sight as she ranted,

"I'M DRIVING IKE TO SCHOOL LATE AND I GET A CALL TELLING ME THAT I'VE NEGLECTED TO MAKE SURE THAT YOU HAVE TAKEN YOUR INSULIN SHOTS! I DESERVE AN EXPLANATION, YOUNG MAN, THIS INST-"

"Darling," Kyle's father's voice entered through the door, "calm down. Is he even alive?"

He looked to his father, smiling, "Hi, Dad."

"Hi, Kyle…can you tell me why you haven't been eating or taking your shots?"

"…uhm…no."

His father snorted, "Has your mother left you suicide as the only option?"

Kyle laughed weakly again as his mother gasped in offense. Kyle told his father, "Nah, Dad…I guess…I just haven't been…wary. Sorry."

"You should be sorry, you gave me a real scare, Kyle."

Kyle's expression softened, "I'm sorry, Dad."

"It's okay. We're gonna go talk to the doctors, make sure they don't call CPS."

With that his parents left; he could still hear his mother screaming at his father as they walked down the halls. He turned to face Wendy who looked as if she had just been carried off by a hurricane. He chuckled,

"You'll get used to them eventually. All my friends always have. Mom's just…lively."

Wendy nodded, "Heh…yeah."

Kyle looked around the hospital room, inquiring, "So…who carried me to the hospital?"

"Well," Wendy began, "you were picked up by an ambulance by the back of the school. You were carried there by Butters, Craig, Damien and Kenny."

"Dang…that's pretty embarrassing…"

Her brows furrowed, "You sound disappointed."

"Wha? No, it's just embarrassing is all."

"No. You sound disappointed…like…you sound disappointed that it wasn't…Stan that carried you."

He blushed, "I-I never said that. I never even implied that. Why would you say that?"

She shrugged, "Sorry. I talked to him. He saw you being carried off and gave me an interrogation."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him not to come."

Kyle turned on his back, muttering sadly, "Good."

**PS: Kyle's middle name is ironic. If anyone figures out what it means, leave it in a review and there may be a prize for the first one! Maybe a blatant fanservice oneshot gift or a virtual cookie. Depends. Muah ha ha ha ha!**


	16. I Was Spinning Free

**Hey, this is to make up for the last chapter that was really, really short. It's a bit longer, hope you guys like your latest update! Thank you all reviews, it's so appreciated. :D**

"Hey, Kyle. How are you feeling?"

Kyle smiled to the young boy, replying, "I'm fine."

The boy was still frowning, "You're in the hospital. Are you sure?"

Kyle chuckled, "Ike, I'm fine, I promise. I just haven't been doing well on my physical up-keep."

"Have you talked to Stan?"

Kyle blushed a little, looking away, "No. I…I don't know how to say this, Ike…but…" Kyle looked back to his brother with eyes shimmering sympathy, "You know…when…parents get divorces…it's terrible…and children are torn apart from it, families crumble, friendships are lost…it's an awful thing to happen…but sometimes…it's for the better."

Ike still almost appeared confused as Kyle looked away a moment, then gathered himself, continuing, "You said that all you knew when you were a little kid was 'Mom was mom and Dad was dad and they belonged together'…but…you have to remember that Mom and Dad are people too. They're not singularly your parents. They're friends and siblings and elders and…sometimes they're still kids too. You have to realize that just like every other person…they have to find their own destinies. They have to build their future and do what makes them happy. Sometimes…sometimes moms and dads have to split up to be happy, to be strong on their own."

Ike's brows were curved desperately, "Kyle…I don't want this. I hate this."

"You hate what?"

Ike's eyes were filling with tears as told Kyle, "Y-you and Stan fighting…I…I hate it. I hate it worse than when Mom and Dad fight…it's not…it's not fair to you…Kyle…your eyes are so sad when he's gone…"

Kyle blushed again, looking away, "I…I don't know what you mean by that, Ike…I haven't changed…"

A tear fell down Ike's cheek as he pressed, "You have, though…Kyle…you've always had this light…this…wonderful glow about you…and whenever Stan's far away…it leaves with him…it's like you're a ghost, just wandering around without a purpose…and you're sad…I can see it in the way you walk and hear it in your voice…and you're my big brother…the only one I'd ever want, and I want you to be happy…"

Kyle looked back to the young boy who wiped angrily at his tears. The redhead blushed…

"_So when you're sad, it makes me worry. I want you to tell me what's wrong. I want to fix it for you, because I care about you being happy. I want you to be happy."_

"Please…" Ike plead, "…please tell me what's happening…what's gone so wrong?"

Kyle planted a comforting hand on the boy's tiny shoulder, informing him gently, "Ike…it shouldn't be your burden. I'm sorry that this hurts you, I never imagined it would…but…things will be right again, I promise."

"You and Stan won't split, then?" Ike inquired.

Kyle's brows sank again, "I'm sorry, Ike…that's not what I meant…"

"Then what do you mean?"

"I mean…" Kyle swallowed inaudibly, "…I have to go my own way to be happy. I can't…I can't be tied down to Stan anymore. I have to be strong on my own, stand on my own two feet…and…he doesn't need me."

"Need you?" Ike pressed, "He doesn't need you? How do you know?"

"_No! Don't make up more of your stupid lies! You hide things from me! You're always hiding things from me!"_

"He…told me…"

"He said he doesn't need you?"

"Not…not exactly…he just…he doesn't need…a best friend he can't trust…"

Ike was still horribly sad, "Kyle…please…please talk to him…"

"I'm sorry, Ike…but it's not that simple…he doesn't want to talk. He hasn't spoken to me in weeks. I'm sorry, Ike…but things will get better, I promise…I'm going to learn to be strong on my own. I'm going to be strong so I can protect you and everyone else like I used to. I'm going to be stronger."

"Kyle…you're in a hospital bed. You're pale, Kyle…you're thin…you're quiet, Kyle…you don't need to be stronger on your own. You need Stan to make you strong again."

"No! No, Ike! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, but it's not going to happen, Ike…" Kyle sighed, "I'm sorry, Ike…but Stan is different from me…very different and…and now that we're older…it's just…it's just time to…go our separate ways. I want him to have every happiness, Ike…he doesn't deserve anything less than that…but I hinder him from that." Kyle looked away, muttering, "I'm just a bother to him, Ike. I can't help him anymore. I only hurt him."

Ike shook his head slowly, "What's it going to take for you to see that you've gone above and beyond, Kyle?"

Kyle looked to him, "Kyle…I don't…I don't know how to show you…how absolutely wonderful you've been…but I…I'm going to stand by you, Kyle…even if it hurts. If you are certain…that this is right for you and Stan to…say goodbye…then…then it's time. I'll help you, Kyle. I promise I won't interfere anymore."

Kyle hugged his brother, mumbling over his shoulder, "Thank you, Ike…thank you for trying to understand…I know it's hard, and I'm sorry it hurts…I'm hurting too. But what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?"

Ike tore away slowly, smiling, "Yeah…will you be home tonight?"

"No, they wanna keep me for one night. Just to make sure I'm okay. A lot of the nurses think I tried to kill myself, so I'm getting a lot of Jello; I'll be more than alright."

Ike giggled as Kyle wiped away a stray tear, stating, "Everything's going to be alright, Ike, I promise you that. Everything's alright in the end…and if it's not…"

Ike fluttered his wet lashes and met his eyes with Kyle's as he finished, "then it's not the end yet."

Ike hugged his brother once more before leaving to the hallway. His mother entered for the umpteenth time of that day and looked to Kyle,

"What were you thinking, Kyle?"

The redhead looked away, "I was irresponsible. I'm sorry, I failed to keep to my standards…I've just been…distracted lately. I'll be fine, Mom."

His mother ruffled his curls, calling his eyes back to her as she told him, "You scared me, Kyle. You really scared me. When I got that phone call, I thought I lost you. Don't do this to keep up to your standards. Do this because we love you."

Kyle simpered, taking his mother in a hug, "I love you too, Mom…I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Kyle. I'll see you tomorrow."

Kyle nodded as they parted and his father waved to him through the doorway. They left after a short talk with Kyle's doctor. As they were walking to the family car in the parking lot, they found that they could see Kyle reading through a window on the second floor. Kyle's mother sighed, telling his father,

"I'm worried about him. This was so unlike Kyle…it's very strange. Maybe he should be getting regular check-ups or seeing a therapist."

"Mom," Ike interrupted, "don't worry about Kyle…"

The engine revved and Ike looked out the window to his brother, telling her, "He's strong."

OOOOOOOOOO

"Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie, and young affection gapes to be his heir; that fair for which love groaned for and would die, with tender Juliet matched, is now not fair. Now Romeo is beloved and loves again, alike bewitched by the charm of looks, but to his foe supposed he must complain, and she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks; being held a foe, he may not have access to breathe such vows as lovers use to swear, and she as much in love, her means much less to meet her new-beloved anywhere. But passion lends them power, time means to meet, tempering extremities with extreme sweet."

"Where is Romeo tonight?"

Stan looked up to Mrs. Herit, sitting on the edge of the stage as groups of girls painted and lugged around scenery. He heard Wendy from the Light-Box on the other side of the auditorium respond,

"Mrs. Herit, he won't be here tonight. He's spending a night in the hospital."

"Oh my goodness!" Ms. Thrunton exclaimed as Mrs. Herit gasped.

"W-why?!"

"He had something like a diabetic attack…I'm not entirely sure…anyway, he's fine, they're just making sure. He'll be here opening night, not to worry."

Mrs. Herit held her chest as she began to breathe again. She looked to Stan and inquired,

"Well…you rehearsed with him all the time. Surely you know his lines by now, right?"

"Yeah. I can rehearse for him tonight."

Mrs. Herit replied, "Thank you, Stan. That'd be a great help, seeing as I don't have my script with me tonight."

Adam walked out on stage, dressed in his green gown as Stan approached him, still dressed as Mercutio. He looked to Adam with disdain,

"I have to take on Kyle's role tonight. He's not making it."

Adam frowned, "Why not?"

"He doesn't feel well."

Adam suddenly glared, "Ew, so you're taking his place? There's hardly a likeness. He's much cuter."

Stan scowled, "Yes, I'm taking his place for tonight, deal with it. Kyle looks like a girl, so I'm sorry if you can't handle working with an actual man, Princess."

Stan turned away, leaving to help a short girl with a piece of Verona as Adam gaped,

"YOU DID NOT JUST CALL ME PRINCESS!"

OOOOOOOOOOO

Stan was lying in bed, unable to sleep. He wanted to see Kyle. He wanted to hear his voice. The last words Kyle spoke to him were…

"_You were right, though…I couldn't be strong for anyone. I've always needed to be protected, I've never been strong. But I told you every day how wonderful you are, no matter what it was and all you ever said was 'thank you'. That's proof enough. There was nothing kind to ever be said for a weakling like me."_

Stan rolled onto his side, trying to change the subject in his mind. He suddenly heard a knock at his door; he glanced to his clock, 11:54 P.M.

He looked to the door and said softly, "Come in."

The girl entered and closed the door behind her, "What's up?"

"Shelly?"

"Yeah?"

"…what are you doing in my room at midnight?"

The girl sighed, "I know you're fighting with Kyle and I wanted to know if you wanted to talk about it."

Stan looked at her wide-eyed, "…how did you know?"

"He hasn't been over the house in three weeks, I was bound to notice."

Stan looked away, "Oh."

"Well?" She pressed.

"Well, what?" Stan retorted, "Nothing. Nothing's been said, there's nothing I can do…he doesn't want to see me. He's angry."

"He told you that?"

"No." Stan began, "Wendy told me."

"Wendy told you?" Shelly snorted.

"Yeah! What of it?"

The brunette brushed away some of her hair from her shoulder, telling him, "God, do you believe everything you hear? I mean…she's the one who like cheated on you, right? Has she ever been trustworthy?"

Stan blinked in wonderment, "…no…I guess not…"

"Kyle's always been you're fuck-buddy. Even when you guys were like…five."

Stan smiled, "Yeah. Pre-school. We were four."

"Thanks for that walk down Memory Lane, now let's stay on target," She breathed deeply, "Stan…has Kyle ever done you wrong?"

"Well," Stan began, "…he…he lied to me."

"About?"

"About Wendy. He didn't tell me she was cheating on me when he knew the whole time."

She cocked a brow, "…and?"

"…and what?"

"…did you ever ask why?"

Stan paled, "…what?"

"Did you ever ask him why he didn't tell you?"

"Well…I mean…kind of…"

"Kind of? You either ask for a motive, or you don't. Look, Stan, wives don't just kill their husbands to kill them. They do it for the insurance money and the attention. Now, Kyle just killed your relationship. There's no material gain, so I'm thinkin' he probably wanted your attention."

"What?"

She slapped the side of his head, "LISTEN TO ME!" She sighed angrily, "Look, Stan, Kyle probably didn't tell you about Wendy cheating on you because he wanted you to break up with her! Breaking up with Wendy would give him more reason to be around you and take care of you. Maybe because you were moving on faster than he was from your friendship…it was like…a last resort. I mean…imagine Kyle was leaving you to be with…like…Kenny…or something."

"Kenny?!"

"What?"

"Kyle's not gay!"

Shelly smirked, "Oh, come on, Stan, he's FLAMING!"

Stan's jaw dropped, "HE IS NOT!"

She laughed, "Come on, Stan, he is totally a house-wife to you. He's whipped. He is totally gay. I mean, he's quick to cry, loves baking, loves theater, is incredibly sensitive…I mean…are you getting my point?"

Stan blushed as Shelly continued, "ANYWAY, STAY ON TARGET! Imagine Kyle was throwing away your friendship to date someone and show them all his love and attention that used to be only yours…I mean…Kyle doesn't really have anyone else. He's much less social than you. It's probably much harder for him to make friends and all that. When you were being taken away by that Devil-Woman, he was probably scared you'd leave him alone."

Stan was saucer-eyed, "Shelly…I…you're…you're so right…"

"_Hey, Stan…Wendy's over there…"_

"_Why do you still tell me that whenever you see her?"_

"_Dunno…guess it's instinct."_

No…no, Kyle didn't want Stan to ask a question…he wanted Stan to say he didn't care…

"_If he bothers you, tell me."_

"_Oh, I can't defend myself?"_

"_Duh, I'm way tougher than you."_

"_Are not!" _

No…no, Kyle wanted Stan to say that he wanted to protect him.

"…_so…you…you did this…because…"_

"_Because I want you to be happy."_

No…no, Kyle wanted Stan to tell him Kyle made him happy.

"_I think you should've been picked for Romeo."_

No…no, Kyle was looking for Stan to admit he wanted Kyle to be his Juliet.

"_What do you want to do with it?"_

"_With what?"_

"_Your inspiration."_

"_What do I want to do with it?"_

"_Well duh! Dude, you've read five plays in the last twenty four hours, you've been translating middle English for an entire day, your bubbling with inspiration and you're just gonna sit on your couch?"_

No…no, Kyle wanted Stan to use his inspiration to confess his love.

"_I got tired! Not to mention, one of my favorite sounds in the world is your scream."_

No…no, Kyle wasn't tired. He wanted to touch Stan.

"_Eh…your dad's all anal about sharing a bed and my back can't really handle another night on that crappy futon thing."_

No…no, Kyle wasn't worried about the futon. He wanted to fall asleep next to Stan…

"_Stan…why are you doing this?"_

And back there…back there, Kyle didn't want excuses…he wanted Stan to say he was jealous…he wanted Stan to say…that he loved Kyle.

"Shelly…can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah?"

Stan's face filled with blood, "I'm…I'm gay."

She flustered with him, "W-what? When did that happen?"

"Dunno…" Stan began, "…I only realized recently…cause I'm gay for Kyle."

Shelly smiled, "That's cute, Stan. Real cute."

He glared, "I'm not cute. I'll kill you."

Shelly patted his cheek, "Whoa, slow down there, tiger! Homicide is not the answer."

Stan smirked, "…thank you, Shelly."

She stood up, muttering back, "Yeah, whatever…if you wanna get your nails done with me or something fun and flaming like that, I'll go with you."

"H-hey!" Stan snapped as she reached the door, "I'm not a regular gay! I'm just gay for Kyle!"

She turned to him, "Have you told him that?"

Stan paused, "…no."

She simpered, "You should."

With that, she left Stan to stare at his darkened ceiling.


	17. There's No Road I Can Follow

**PLEASE READ THIS—READ THIS--READ THIS--READ THIS**

**I wrote two really long chapters to make up for the absence. You see, this chapter ends on a crazy cliffhanger that I didn't want to torture you guys with, so I finished the next chapter to update them together without this cliffhanger. Hope you guys like it, thank you for all reviews and PMs and fanart! It's so so so so so wonderful! And so so so so appreciated! Hope you like your updates!**

Again, Stan sat with a twitching leg, daydreaming of the moment he would see Kyle. He was overwhelmed with words he wanted to spew. There was so much to be said on his part, apologies and confessions and secrets he didn't even know he was keeping. His brows curved sadly,

"_Don't go near him. He doesn't need your problems right now."_

Stan sighed; or maybe he shouldn't bring anything up at all. Perhaps it was better to let Kyle go. Stan wondered if honoring what Kyle wanted would allow Kyle to see that Stan wanted him to be happy. He wondered if Kyle would understand that he cared about him being happy too.

"Marsh?"

"What?"

His teacher glared again, "Mr. Marsh, what is it that is distracting you so?"

He blushed, "Nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing is more interesting than Russian dictators?"

"…yes…?"

Her scowl deepened, "See me after class, Marsh."

Stan sighed as she turned around, talking with her hands. He ranted inwardly of how he couldn't stay after class; of course he couldn't, he had to see if Kyle was back. He had to make sure that Kyle wasn't as pale as he was the day prior; he had to make certain that the omnipotence that dictated his every heartstring was safe and sound. Kyle was the potion that allowed Stan to attend the ball, he was the spell that unlocked the door, he was the medicine to cure his any ail…he had to see him smile. Stan's frown deepened; no matter what that meant. He wanted Kyle to be happy whether that meant Stan in his life or not. To Stan's great pleasure the bell rang and he stood to race out of the classroom, he was unfortunately stopped by a tug on his shoulder,

"Where do you think you're going, Marsh?"

He looked back to her, "I-I was leaving…I'm sorry, but I can't stay…"

"Oh? And why not?"

Stan flustered, "Private matters."

"Hmm." She huffed, "Sounds like drugs and alcohol. I always knew you were a mess."

"W-what?!" Stan snapped, "I didn't say anything like that?! I just don't feel comfortable talking about it with you—"

Stan very clearly heard Kyle's mumbling voice, signaling to Stan that Kyle was probably embarrassed; made enough sense, he knew Kyle was easily humiliated. He looked out the door to see Kyle approaching his classroom door with Wendy; they were surrounded by kids asking if Kyle was okay, when he fainted, why and if anything went down at the hospital. He was blushing and waving a lot of the questions off as ridiculous inquiries and privacy-interfering questions. He was smiling, though and Stan's heart thumped. He ripped away from his teacher, not even realizing he had until he reached the hallway. He raced to the door, meeting Kyle just outside the threshold…

"Kyle!"

The redhead turned, his satin curls bobbing gracefully as he faced the boy. Stan was horrified to see the smile immediately clear from his expression. Wendy put a hand on Kyle's back to encourage him to move forward rather than socializing with his ex-friend. Kyle turned away again to walk with her and follow her silent instructions until Stan called after him,

"W-wait…do you…do you need a book-carrier or anything?"

Kyle turned to him, a condescending smile played across his lips as he confidently replied, "I'm far from needing any assistance, Marsh. Much less yours. I'm more than fine on my own, thanks."

Stan paled as Kyle turned away again; his heart aching to hear Kyle's voice again he called after him,

"Kyle! What about Mary-Jane?"

The boy stopped in unison with Wendy. Stan continued,

"I…I read about it in the local paper…" Stan's brows furrowed, "I know you, Kyle. I know you're all broken up about it…"

There was no response, angering Stan to add, "Come on, Kyle! I know you hear me! Don't act all tough-and-mighty when I know you've been crying!"

There was still no response until he saw Kyle pick up his feet and begin walking again. Wendy caught up to him as Stan snapped,

"Come on, Kyle! A strong man, a real man would turn around!"

Kyle did turn at this, muttering back with his all-powerful smirk, "A real man, maybe. But the better man walks away from such immature games."

He turned again, disappearing around the corner with Wendy. She looked to Kyle, stating,

"That was kind of harsh, don't you think? It looked like he wanted to talk to you…are you still not going to talk to him?"

Kyle's eyes were low and deadly, his friendly demeanor demolished as he told her, "The last words I'll hear from Stan Marsh will be, 'A plague on both your houses!'…and then I never have to see his face again. That's that."

She looked away sadly, "Are…are you sure this is the right choice, Kyle? I mean…maybe he wants to say sorry…"

Kyle scoffed, "Stanley Marsh never says sorry. He never apologizes, he just manipulates the situation to fit his argument. That way, he's never wrong."

"You're saying he was right to treat you the way he did because of the excuse he came up with?"

Kyle opened the cafeteria door for her, replying, "I never said he was right. I said he wasn't wrong. Just because a man on trial is judged 'Not Guilty' does not mean he is innocent."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Stan stood frozen and saucer-eyed as the halls cleared and the bell rang again. He looked to his teacher who approached him slowly. He sighed,

"Sorry about that…I just…sorry."

She seemed concerned, "Come in my room, Marsh."

He nodded and followed her to her desk. She pushed aside some papers and looked to him as he sat on the table nearest to her desk. She breathed deeply,

"Tell me what's up, Marsh. You're grades are outstanding in my class, but you're always dozing off. I take it it's about that boy from outside."

Stan blushed lightly, "Eh…kind of."

"Yeah? Tell me what's going on."

Stan didn't look at her as he reported, "Well…that's Kyle Broflovski…he's…he's my…well…he was my best friend."

"Well, you know that high school is often a time that friends split up and find new cliques and all that…"

"No," Stan insisted, "It's not like that with me and Kyle…you see…our best-friendship is…is so different…that ever since we were like…eight, we've called ourselves Super-Best-Friends."

She chuckled, causing Stan to find humor in the absurd nickname. His smile faded, though, as she asked him,

"And he 'was' your super best friend? What happened?"

Stan looked away again, "I…I told him I didn't trust him. I never thanked him for all the wonderful things he did for me, I never thanked him for taking such good care of me when I wasn't…well…and…after everything he's done…I mean," He looked to her with pleading eyes, "he has cared for me better than my parents ever could. He cleaned for me, baked for me when I was upset, he was the only friend who stuck around when I was depressed…he just…he just always made my life bearable…no, he made it more than bearable, he made it pleasant, bright…he always made certain that I felt loved and happy…and…and I blew it. I was the most selfish prick in the world and I crapped on our bond and now he won't talk to me."

"He won't talk to you?"

Stan sighed, "He'll barely look at me. He's got this…this wish…he's got this ambition to be…stronger." Stan felt reluctant tears edging their way to his eyes as he told her in a cracking voice, "And…and he only felt like he needed to be strong…because I was the one who told him he was weak…"

His teacher's brows were tilted, "Marsh, this is awful."

"I know."

"No, Marsh," She pressed, "I need you two to be together again."

Stan sniffled softly, "…huh?"

"I can't see to it that things stay this way! It isn't right! You have a right to speak! To apologize!"

"Uh…well…that's not going to do much good. He's as good as a statue to any of my sneak-socializing-tactics…he's like a borderline recluse…he hates socializing, it makes him nervous and upset."

"So…you were…"

"Yeah. I was his only friend."

He saw his teacher's normally angry eyes film with water as she barked, "MARSH!"

"W-WHAT?!" Stan shouted in surprise.

"HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?!"

"W-WHAT?!"

"YOU WERE HIS ONLY FRIEND!"

"GOD, I'M SORRY!" Stan sighed, holding his chest, "Shit, Ms. Burnett, you scared me!"

She huffed as she slumped her face in her palm, "Marsh…this ruined my day."

He lifted his arms in accusation, "You're the one who told me to spill the beans!"

She rolled her eyes, "Well, I thought it was gonna be NORMAL adolescent issues, not tragic stories about how you shit on a socially rejected boy's perfect attempt at being a best friend!"

Stan glared at her, "Are you going to give me a pep talk to make me feel better, or can I leave?"

She breathed through her nose again, telling him, "I'll tell you one thing, Marsh." Her eyes took on a serious tone as she finished, "You have to fix this."

"How?" He barked, "He won't listen to me!"

"Make him listen!"

"How?!"

She smirked, "Marsh, I'm sure when I snap you out of your daydreams during class you don't wanna listen to me. I force you to listen by talking even if you don't care. It doesn't matter if he doesn't 'want' to hear it. He's going to."

Stan looked away, "I dunno, Ms. Burnett. He…cries a lot…I know he's been crying a lot lately too. I don't want to upset him an—"

"HE CRIES?"

"STOP YELLING! YOU KEEP SCARING ME!"

She held her head, "Marsh, Marsh, Marsh…this isn't good. He cries? Is he very feminine?"

Stan blushed, "WHY DOES EVERYONE CALL HIM GIRLY FOR CRYING?!"

She laughed, "Well, it's a very girlish thing! Girls deal with depression in very different ways than boys. Girls tend to keep it to themselves and let it bubble and fester until it develops into a full-fledged mental illness. Boys, on the other hand, are barbaric and normally take their issues out through violence or exercising. Then they're too stupid to remember why they were angry in the first place."

Stan scowled, "Are you trying to tell me I'm stupid for being an athlete?"

"Well," She smiled, "I also hear you're in that drama group, so I suppose I can't be too judgmental."

"Yeah…it was a punishment."

"For what?"

Stan smiled, remembering the day, "Kyle and I pulled a prank on my ex-girlfriend and her friend and got in trouble."

She smiled with him, "He was your partner in crime?"

"_Well, consider us partners in crime, then."_

"_Sorry, Fruity Freddy, the much-adored and praised partner-in-crime position has already been filled by yours truly."_

Stan chuckled, "Heh…yeah…he was."

Stan's face suddenly turned a terrible shade of red, "OH MY GOD!"

"WHAT?!"

"OUR OPENING NIGHT IS TONIGHT!"

His teacher snarled, "DON'T SCARE ME LIKE THAT!"

"WELL NOW YOU KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE!"

They both glanced to the clock to find that the current period was coming to an end. He looked to her as she instructed,

"I'm coming tonight, then. I need you two to make up. What role do you have?"

"I'm Mercutio, he's Romeo."

Her eyes widened, "Wow…he's talented enough for that?"

Stan looked to his fiddling fingers, "Yeah. Honestly…he's perfect in most everything he tries."

She flustered, "Marsh…do you love him?"

The ebony-haired boy shot his red face to her as the bell rang. He smiled, waving her off as he left the room, "I'll see you tonight, Ms. Burnett! Thanks for all the help!"

OOOOOOOOOOO

"The set is wonderful, Barbara." Mrs. Herit told Ms. Thrunton as they walked along the stage.

The painted city of Verona was wonderfully done, Kyle had to admit. The balcony was backstage with the bushes Kyle would fight with to reach Adam at the balcony. It was fabulously built; the balcony ledge was high and strong enough to allow Adam to lean on it while still being low enough to view the beautiful night gown he wears in that scene. Kyle was in the dressing room, sitting in one of the chairs in his dark blue tights and shoes; not having fully gotten in costume yet. He heard someone enter, looked to the door to find Adam. The brunette smiled,

"Hey…you nervous?"

Kyle shook his head, "I-inconceivable! Wouldn't think o-of it."

"You're not worried?" Adam pressed with an all-knowing smirk.

"I'm not too worried about it, really. I wouldn't worry about it. Don't worry about it. I'm not worried at all."

Adam let escape a laugh, "You're too much, sometimes, Kyle."

The redhead sighed, "Alright, I'm nervous."

"Well," Adam told him, "you know…when people have issues in Shakespeare's plays, they sort themselves out through soliloquies."

"Hmmm…"

"You 'do' know what a soliloquy is, right?"

Kyle snorted, "Duh. It's when the characters talk aloud to themselves."

"Right. So why don't you try?"

Kyle looked Adam skeptically, "That sounds…weird…"

"It helped Juliet, didn't it?"

"Yeah, but it killed her too."

"Can't fight ya on that one."

Kyle chuckled softly, "Alright…I guess I could try."

"Alright, so just…pretend I'm not here and go on."

Kyle closed his eyes, waiting a long moment before speaking.

"I…I don't want to be weak. Not anymore. I know…I know that there is a selfish side of me. It's…it's ugly and…it's terrible and…and it lied to the only person who…meant the world to me. That side…that side has reappeared now…it's…entered my life again because I doubt myself…I always…I always told myself that…that I was never attracted to anyone. I couldn't be. I couldn't handle dating, I could barely handing befriending people…but then…but then someone asked me…if I was…if I was gay…and I didn't know what to say for the first time…I'm scared to find out. But someone strong…wouldn't scared of such a thing like that…I'm weak for that…I'm weak for thinking that discovering…sexuality would change me…but what if it does? If it changes me from who I used to be…then…what if I lose all that I have now?"

"What is it that you have now that you don't want to lose?"

Kyle's brows furrowed, "I…I don't…have anything. I lost everything in a fight."

"So maybe," He heard Adam begin; he opened his eyes to see Adam sitting beside him on a chair he pulled over, "that selfish side isn't looking for something more, but something different."

Kyle blushed as Adam reached to touch his face, "I…I…"

"Do you want to know if you're gay?"

"I…I don't think I am."

"Have you kissed a boy, then?"

Kyle's blush spread, warming Adam's hand that held his cheek, "I…n-no…I…"

Adam inched a bit closer, causing Kyle's heart to face as he stammered, "W-what if someone comes i-in?"

"We're early, Kyle, no one's here…"

"Bu—"

A bang sounded, giving Kyle the chance to pull away and search for where the noise came from.

OOOOOOOOOO

Stan was running out of his classroom, his cell phone smashed between his shoulder and ear as he told his mother,

"Mom, I'm sorry, but I don't want to come home yet! I've gotta make sure I see Kyle, I've got to talk to him…yeah, yeah…everything's fine, don't worry about it, Mom…I love you too…kay, bye."

He maneuvered his shoulder to allow his mouth to shut the phone and grip it between his lips. He finished shoving some books into his backpack, then slipped it over one of his shoulders. The moment it hit his back he cursed, "Dang, that's heavy…I fucking hate high school."

"_Dude, I fuckin' hate school."_

"_I know, Stan, you've said that a million times today. Why do you hate it so much?"_

"_I need a reason? Ugh, I hate high school…it's too much stress."_

Stan smiled to himself; he was more determined than ever to make things right. He raced to the auditorium, looking to Mrs. Herit and Ms. Thrunton who were discussing how lovely the background came out. He looked to Mrs. Herit, inquiring,

"Kyle's in, right?"

"Yeah, he's in the East dressing room. We put your costumes in the West, though."

"Okay, thanks." He waved to them as he ran towards the East dressing room.

He heard a small mumble as he approached the door, then stood frozen…his bag dropping with a shaking thud.

Kyle looked to him, his face cherry red, "S-Stan?"


	18. I Can't Help Falling In Love

The charcoal-haired boy's ocean eyes were wide in horror. Adam looked to him casually,

"What are you doing here so early?"

Stan glared to Adam, a fire burning in his stomach as he snapped, "What the fuck were you just doing?"

Adam's brows perked, "That's none of your business."

"Yeah? Well, I'm making it my fucking business. What the fuck were you doing?"

"Stan, Kyle was clearly making a wonderful decision for his life style, don't try to change this."

"Change this?" Stan's eyes tilted more evilly, "How about you let Kyle talk for himself?" He looked to the redhead, "Well? Doesn't a strong man talk for himself?"

Kyle paled, looking away; Stan looked back at Adam, snarling, "Leave."

"Leave?" Adam laughed, "Kyle doesn't want or need you around anymore!"

Stan stepped closer to Adam, his fists clenching; he was sick of hearing that.

"And what? Kyle is 'your' property now?!"

"He's no material thing, he's the real deal and he's mine."

Kyle looked to see Stan's eyes widen in anger, his face boiling as he lifted his arm, pulled it back and swung it directly into Adam's right eye, so strong that it threw the brunette back two feet, right onto his ass. Mrs. Herit and Ms. Thrunton had heard the conflict from outside and came racing to the door as Stan snarled viciously,

"LOOK, PRINCESS, THAT ANGEL IS NOT YOURS, HE NEVER WAS AND NEVER WILL BE." Stan stepped closer to the wounded boy on the floor, "YOU HEAR ME, FRUIT-CUP? HE'S NOT YOURS. THAT SHIT IN YOUR PANTS? YEAH, THAT'S YOURS, BUT THIS," He pointed to Kyle, exclaiming, "THAT'S MINE. NOT YOURS. NEVER YOURS."

The teachers pushed past Stan, Mrs. Herit shouting, "His face is swollen! We're opening in a half hour and he's barely conscious!"

Stan was still glaring to the boy with certain death in his eyes. Ms. Thrunton turned to Stan, snapping,

"WHAT WERE YOUTHINKING?!"

Stan blushed, "None of your business, hag!"

"WAIT!" Mrs. Herit interrupted, "Barbara, you said that Adam and Kyle and Stan were all similar measurements, right?"

"Yeah?"

Mrs. Herit looked to Stan, inquiring, "And you know all of Romeo's lines, right?"

"…yeah…?"

She looked to Kyle, "And you know all of Juliet's scenes!"

Kyle's eyes widened further, "Bu—"

Mrs. Herit snapped her fingers, "Get Adam medical attention. Stan, you're taking Kyle's role, Kyle, you're taking Adam's role. I'll find Mercutio's understudy."

The teachers left at that, taking Adam's body with them. Stan looked to Kyle, but before a word could be spoken the backstage girls came in, including Wendy. Wendy took Kyle's hand, informing him,

"We have to make you look like a girl, Kyle, come on. We only have like, twenty minutes."

Kyle was dragged off by her as more girls came back to Stan shortly after, handing him Romeo's get-up and suggesting he break a leg. He wasn't sure if they meant it or not.

Before anything could be processed mentally, an audience was filling the seats outside and Stan's mind and heart were racing.

_Maybe punching Adam's lights out wasn't such a great plan…_

It was too late for regretting, however, because the lights were on center stage where Mrs. Herit stood, smiling and stating,

"Good evening, everyone. There has been a bit of a change in tonight's show. Romeo Montague will be played by Stanley Marsh while Juliet Capulet will be played by Kyle Broflovski."

People clapped; some seemed confused. They were all probably wondering where the hell Adam Liever was. Stan wanted to laugh, but the nervous lump in his throat halted any noise. He heard some girls passing behind him and grabbed one,

"Hey—"

"What are you doing?"

"Wendy…what about the kiss? What do I do about the kiss?"

She sighed, "People in theater don't kiss, Stan. You kiss right below his bottom lip. He's already rehearsed with Adam, he knows. You're going on soon, so get ready."

She was turning away again when Stan gripped her arm. She turned around to him, a cross of interest and anger on her face as he told her,

"Look…I…I wanted to thank you."

Her expression softened, "…for what?"

"For…for taking such good care of Kyle…you know, while I've been a prick."

She cocked a brow, "You're thanking me for taking care of him?"

"Yeah, but…but I'll be taking over again. So I don't want you to worry about him anymore."

"How can you be so sure he'll take you back?"

"Because I love him."

The girl flushed, but before anymore questions could be spat the satin, red curtains opened wide and in front of a second layer of red curtain stood Patrick Lokia. The boy took a moment to look around the faces in the countless seats before reciting,

"Two households both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean."

Stan looked behind the black curtains backstage, trying to see if Kyle was approaching where his first entrance would take place. Once Stan could see into the West, his heart stopped. There was Kyle, being pushed out of the dressing room towards the side-curtains. He was in the gorgeous, green dress that Adam had worn. His thin body gave off oddly girlish curves, his male-indicating jaw-line covered by his curls. Kyle's curls had been pulled on to make them longer, the girls probably didn't have time to find and arrange a wig for him. The curls were just longer, though, never lacking in their shine and bounce. Once he reached his entrance-spot, his blush faded a little, his breathing kicked up again. As Patrick Lokia still read their opening poem, Stan called over in a loud whisper,

"Kyle!"

…

"Kyle!"

…

"Kyle!"

The redhead refused to look at him, though. As Stan went to whisper Kyle's name again, the second curtain pulled as the audience roared for him and they all mumbled about the scenery. Their first scene began and everyone backstage was pleased to hear people chuckling. It wasn't long before Stan entered the stage to find the boy, Peter, who used to play Benvolio playing Mercutio and another extra playing Peter's role.

"Good-morrow, cousin." The new Benvolio greeted.

"Is the day so young?" Stan inquired.

"But new struck nine."

Stan looked away sadly, "Aye, sad hours seem long. Was that my father who went hence so fast?"

"It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?"

Stan's eyes accidently fell on Kyle's backstage. The boy was watching nervously, mouthing his lines with him. Stan blushed, replying,

"Not having that, which, having, makes them short."

"In love?"

"Out."

"Of love?" Benvolio pressed.

"Out of her favor, where I am in love."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Everyone had clapped after each scene, allowing Stan to understand he was doing well for a second-option. The crowd had literally jumped out of their seats at seeing Juliet. Stan had even overheard some of the members of the crowd asking among themselves if it was truly a boy at all. Once the balcony scene passed, though, and the chest of a boy was more visible, it was very clear that Juliet was, indeed, a boy. Stan was utterly distraught, now. No matter how he tried to talk to Kyle, the boy would ignore him or find an excuse to get further away. Not only that, but he was banished too.

"Tis torture, and not mercy! Heaven is here, where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog and little mouse, every unworthy thing, live here in heaven and may look on her. But, I, Romeo may not; more validity, more honorable state, more courtship lives in carrion-flies than Romeo. They may seize on the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand and steal immortal blessing from her lips…who even in pure and vestal modesty, still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin. But, no! No, Romeo may not; he is banished;  
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly, they are free men, but I am banished." He turned to Friar Laurence from his pathetic state on the floor, "And say'st thou yet that exile is not death? Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, no sudden mean of death, though never so mean…but 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'?"

His ebony bang still cloaked half of his handsome face, as he looked up to the audience, he spotted many of the girls from his school; they were all blushing and smiling when he looked at them. His neck fell limp against his chest again as he whimpered, "Oh, friar, the damned use that word in hell; howlings attend it. How hast thou the heart, being a divine, a ghostly confessor, a sin-absolver, and my friend professed, to mangle me with that word 'banished'?"

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Kyle!" He shouted in a whisper.

"Kyle!"

… "Kyle!"

The redhead would still not pay him even a glance in response. Stan bit back a curse,

"Kyle!"

Kyle finally turned to him, snapping, "I took a potion, Marsh, I'm dead. Don't talk to me."

Stan glared, "You've made it more than clear that you're completely deaf to anything I say, but I know you hear me!"

Kyle turned away again, seemingly listening to the Capulets panicking over Juliet's supposed death. Stan glared at Kyle, knowing that after the next few scenes Kyle wouldn't speak to him again and run off home to face the cold world on his own. To be strong.

" _It doesn't matter if he doesn't 'want' to hear it. He's going to."_

Stan was only a few feet away, but it was still too far to speak in loud voices. He was only just noticing how tight the leggings were, only just noticing how hard his heart was pounding against his chest.

"_He was horrified to find that he could still not confess his love, and now she never would know."_

Stan swallowed audibly, stammering, "K-Kyle…Kyle, I was wrong…"

The redhead looked to him and met his pleading eyes. Stan's expression must have been pathetic, desperate for his attention like a starved animal. He laughed breathily, continuing,

"Kyle…I…Kyle, you mean everything to me. You're the only one who could ever give me the happiness you do. Kyle…you were nothing but kind to me, always. You're an angel, Kyle, God-sent. You're everything divine and refined, please believe me, Kyle…"

His freckled cheeks were filling with blood, his emerald eyes wide. Stan appreciated how beautifully the green dress aligned with his lime irises. With no objections, Stan's confidence rose and he sounded much more certain of what he was saying,

"You're beautiful, Kyle. You're beautiful in every way and I know that now. I look at you and I see all the answers I've ever searched for. You're everything I could ever ask for…and I…I love you, Kyle. I love you for everything you are and I love you for everything you're not. I love you because you're strong, Kyle. I love you for taking care of me in illness and talking me through everything. I love the way you breathe and how I know exactly how to get you wound up. I love how you put up with your insane mother, I love how you act like your brother is your own child and I love how your hair looks on the pillow while you're sleeping…I…I—"

Stan's eyes angered more, his heart was weakening, he needed Kyle to reply. He needed to be reassured,

"I know you want me too, Kyle! I know you gave me a million openings to say that I loved you, that I wanted you, but I was too stupid to realize it!"

Kyle looked taken aback, looking away momentarily as Stan brought his attention back, insisting, "You want me too! Admit it! You wanna be strong, Kyle? Who do you want to be strong for, Kyle? Why do you need to be strong?" Stan huffed, "You told me you thought of me like a super-hero, Kyle, right? You said I was everything bundled up into one person…you wanted to be my equal, you wanted me to notice you that way! You wanted me to see you wanted me, but I was blind, Kyle!"

The boy still didn't reply as Stan pressed, "Say it, Kyle! Go on, admit that you were dying for me to notice! You wanted my attention! You were jealous of Wendy!"

"Stan, Balthasar is waiting!" Wendy snarled in a whisper, having just arrived between them she said nothing in response to Stan's last statement and pushed him through the curtains.

Stan was still blushing from his confession, recalling the red in Kyle's surprisingly stoic face. The only clear part of his face was his horrified eyes, opened wide in awe, but his mouth was closed and tight, his body hadn't even twitched out of place. Stan looked to the boy playing Balthasar,

"N-News from Verona!--How now, Balthasar! Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? How doth my lady? Is my father well? How fares my Juliet? That I ask again, for nothing can be ill, if she be well."

Stan cursed himself as the boy answered; he wasn't really listening. He was aggravated for choosing such timing to tell Kyle what he had been thinking all this time. He realized he wouldn't see Kyle again, not even backstage, until their final scene.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Oh!" Paris cried, holding his side and cringing as the fake blood leaked from his hand, causing girls in the first row to practically gag. "I am slain!" He looked up to Stan, pleading, "If thou be merciful, open the tomb and lay me with Juliet…"

With that the boy collapsed into Stan's arms as a blackout cloaked them. The scenery was changed to that of the Capulet's tomb and Stan looked up to see Kyle lying on a prop that was painted to appear as a stone bed, his perfect, unreadable face covered in a lace shroud. On seeing the redhead he recited his lines, but didn't really hear himself. He was numb to the sound of his own voice as he laid Paris against the foot of the stone bed. He slowly took out the small vial of water that on this night would kill him, he sat beside the boy dressed in wonderful shades of aquamarine as he plead, "Ah, dear Juliet, why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe that unsubstantial death is amorous and that the lean abhorred monster keeps thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee, and never from this palace of dim night depart again. Here…" He looked to the redhead sorrowfully, "…here will I remain  
with worms that are thy chamber-maids. Oh, here will I set up my everlasting rest, and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh…"

He leaned down a little further, cupping Kyle's cheek and running his thumb along his freckles as he muttered, "Eyes, look your last…" He removed the shroud, taking the small torso into his hold as he continued, "Arms, take your last embrace… and, lips," His indigo eyes fell onto the full, untouched lips of his friend, practically whimpering, "Oh, you, the doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss a dateless bargain to engrossing death!" He placed Kyle onto his back again, holding the bottle in the air before his face, he held the bottle so tightly his knuckles shown white, "Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!" He glanced to Kyle, adding, "Here's to my love!"

He downed the bottle of water, hearing a few gasps among the audience. He tightened his hold on the vial; his eyes scrunched closed in agony as he gripped at his chest, gasping shortly before claiming, "Oh, true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick…thus with a kiss…"

He looked down to Kyle, bent down and pressed his lips to the shaded indent under his bottom-lip, as directed. His eyes were filled with tears he hadn't known he worked himself up to as he rose again, falling onto his back, one arm hanging off the edge of the prop as he finished, "I die."

Conversation was heard between Balathasar and Friar Laurence, but Stan was happy his role was over. Not that it was ever 'his' role. He stole it from Kyle. He blushed, almost wishing he had actually kissed Kyle over pretending he had. That would just be another theft, though. He knew Kyle had never been kissed, and he thanked the Jesus that couldn't run that Adam hadn't taken it himself. Fire ran through his veins at remembering the brunette; he hadn't known hatred until Adam Liever. Suddenly, Kyle's voice rang out and called forth Stan's attention again,

"Oh, comfortable friar! Where is my lord?" Kyle was looking to the boy with tilted brows, "I do remember well where I should be, and there I am…where is my Romeo?"

A strange noise erupted from backstage, triggering the boy playing the friar to encourage,

"I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep. A greater power than we can contradict hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away. Thy husband in by thy soles there lies dead, and Paris too. Come, I'll dispose of thee among a sisterhood of holy nuns, stay not to question, for the watch is coming, come, go, good Juliet,"

The noise sounded again and the boy insisted, "I dare no longer stay."

Kyle's voice sounded fragile and had a terrible wavering that made Stan believe he was near tears as well as he cried to the friar, "Go! Get thee hence, for I will not away!"

As the boy ran out of the counterfeit tomb, Kyle looked over to the charcoal-haired athlete, taking his strong hands in his own and touching at the vial, "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand?" He took it and ran it under his nostrils, continuing, "Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end…" He tried to take a swipe, but pulled it from his mouth, cursing, "Oh churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative."

Kyle leaned down, kissing in the same spot Stan had on him. Stan blushed at the touch of his lips; they were soft, satin and his proximity let waft a sweet scent. Kyle slowly came apart, muttering, "Thy lips are warm."

Another noise erupted; the boy playing the watchman's voice came through from backstage, "Lead, boy, which way?"

Kyle's expression melted to confliction as he looked to where the noise was coming from,

"Ye noise is true…then I'll be brief." He reached over his curled legs and tickled Stan's side as he grabbed his sword, "Oh, happy dagger! This is thy sheath!"

Stan heard the crowd groan and gasp in time with Kyle exhaling sharply; the pocket of fake blood was probably leaking across the beautiful dress as Kyle's voice finished, "…there ruse…and let me die…"

He fell to Stan's chest, his curls resting across his collarbone and chest, some falling against his chin and cheeks. The aroma was intoxicating and their inconspicuous breathing was getting harder and harder to hide. The watchmen, the Capulets, Page, Friar Laurence, Balthasar and a Montague had all arrived and were talking with the prince who was called forth. It was confessed that Lady Montague had died of a broken heart when she heard her son had killed himself. The friar told them the saga of Romeo and Juliet's unlikely romance, how Juliet had never truly been dead, how Romeo was in too much despair to reason or wait after receiving false news. Upon finding her love, the friar explained that she was overcome with grief and ended her life with his. Capulet turned over to Montague and told him,

"Oh, brother Montague, give me thy hand," He took the boy's hands in his own, "This is my daughter's jointure, for no more can I demand."

Montague painted the saddest demeanor he could gather, replying, "But I can give thee more, for I will raise her statue in pure gold; that while Verona by that name is known, there shall no figure at such rate be set as that of true and faithful Juliet."

"As rich shall Romeo's by his lady's lie!" Capulet cried, "Poor sacrifices of our enmity!"

They all backed away, the curtains closing behind Kyle and Stan and Patrick Lokia. The boy stood before the audience, reciting as people wiped at tears,

"A glooming peace this morning with it brings. The sun for sorrow will not show its head. Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; some shall be pardoned, and some punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet…and her Romeo."

The final curtain closed and the audience roared. Their risen silhouettes danced across the curtains, whistling and clapping echoed boisterously through the auditorium. Stan rose reluctantly as Kyle quickly snapped out of his hold. They stared at each other for a long while, Kyle's eyes still wide and innocent, but his expression conveying nothing else.

"Kyle…" Stan whispered as his palm rose to Kyle's cheek. He only lightly brushed at it and brought his face closer, their noses just touching. Stan looked like he was about to say something until Kyle tore away; startled at first, Stan was wounded, but found that the second curtain was opening for them to step in front of the rest of the aligned cast and bow. Stan gripped Kyle's hand lovingly, walking with him to front, center stage as the crowd cried and screamed and whistled for them. Kyle looked down to the first row to find Mary-Jane's gaggle throwing a bouquet to him. He smiled, catching it and mouthing a thank you. He bowed with Stan, the most plastic painting of happiness masking him. They bowed again, in unison with the rest of the cast, then the curtains closed and Kyle snatched his hand back.

Stan wasn't allowed even an utterance before Kyle ran off backstage, locking the West dressing room door to assure Stan wouldn't approach him.

Stan bit back a scream that would call for Kyle.

He wondered if it was better to have not said anything at all.

He wondered if it was better to have just let Kyle flee.

And that's exactly what he did.

…**.END…**

**LMAO JK LOLLERSKATES**

**Lol, I'm so obnoxious. NO IT IS NOT THE END, WORRY NOT :D**


	19. No Mountain High, No Valley Low

**Not quite the end, but I'd like to give some shout-outs…**

**Thank you for wonderful reviews; TickleMePinkToMyStomach, LolitaRagDoll, Sapphire Sunrise, Lady Azura, Sokka, Lornfaer, DeathByIrony, cindy94chan, PimpedOutGreenEars and LightofaThousandSuns!**

**Thank you guys so much for your awesome reviews, they were really encouraging and so much fun to read! I hope everyone likes their update! Thank you again!**

After the show, Kyle told Ike briefly and without major details what had happened backstage. Ike seemed let down and left Kyle to talk with his parents for a while. Everyone congratulated him, but the moment he saw Stan exiting his dressing room he left with his family. They found Ike waiting at the car and left. That night crept upon them slowly; the only light in Kyle's room was the white blanket the full moon spilled. Kyle was lying on his bed, his stoic expression dry of tears as he stared to his ceiling.

"_K-Kyle…Kyle, I was wrong…"_

"_Kyle, you mean everything to me."_

"_I love you because you're strong, Kyle."_

"_Say it, Kyle! Go on, admit that you were dying for me to notice! You wanted my attention! You were jealous of Wendy!"_

Kyle didn't shudder, didn't move an inch.

"_I love you, Kyle."_

He blushed. He remembered how Adam had closed in on him, how his breath was so close and how it felt so wrong. His eyes fell to the left and looked to his open palm. He imagined he must have looked like a fallen warrior, sprawled out on his bedcover. He closed his eyes and his chest hurt when he realized he wasn't gay. No, he had always known. He wasn't attracted to boys. That much was certain, but that didn't help him. On the cover of his lids he saw Stan's desperate face, so starving for Kyle to reply. He opened his eyes when he heard a crack outside his window, but reasoned that it was the wind. The storms had been on and off for so long that weather was strange and although it hadn't rained for their opening show it had been cloudy and dark. Kyle wondered if that was an omen of the pain to come.

"I wish Stan were here…"

"So call him."

Kyle looked to the door to find Ike staring with his big, caramel eyes. Kyle sat up,

"Ike, when did you come in my room?"

"Call him. His cell-phone is always on, I bet he'd love you to call."

"Ike," Kyle flustered, "it's not polite to eavesdrop."

"When you're talking to yourself?"

Kyle looked away, "I don't sound crazy, do I?"

"You wish Stan were here to make you strong again."

The redhead shot his head to Ike, muttering, "Ike, I thought you said you weren't going to push it."

Ike glared, "You always tell me not to thank you for what I should know is true. This isn't your little brother being a brat. It's the world. Anyone can see it. You need him."

"I don't need him. I don't need anyone."

Ike was taken aback, snarling, "RAT!"

Kyle's shoulders tensed as his brother barked, "RAT! Sniveling, lying rat! That's how you sound! Lying to yourself is one thing, but don't you dare lie to me! Don't be so self-absorbed! You complained about how all Stan had cared about was 'his' pain and 'his' heartache, but how are you any better?!"

Kyle stared wide-eyed as his brother still shouted, "You think a strong man walks away like this? You think a strong man stays silent and turns his back on everything he's ever worked for? It takes a weakling to try and forget pain." Kyle's brows tilted as Ike finished, "It takes someone strong to forgive."

The redhead looked away again, "I don't have to forgive him for anything. I wouldn't change a thing about him."

"So what? Are you scared, Kyle?"

The boy was pallid in the white shadow the moon casted on him, "I don't want to lose him because I'm weak. I never want to lose him, Ike. That's why…I thought it better that I leave him before he leaves me."

Ike's face softened, "…why is he so special, Kyle?"

He blushed, closing his eyes, "He was so strong. Never cared what people thought of him if he hung around me. He found me when no one else…was…looking. He never asked me to betray who I was or hide embarrassing aspects of myself…he…never asked me to change. He amazes me."

Ike walked over, sitting next to Kyle, "Why didn't you tell him that?"

"I tried to. I don't think he ever understood what I was trying to say, though."

"What were you trying to say?"

Kyle opened his eyes and looked to the younger boy. Ike smiled, "You should've seen his face when he kissed you."

Kyle blushed wildly, "H-he didn't kiss me! He pretended to!"

Ike looked away with a smirk, "Either way, he wanted to."

"What?"

"He wanted to kiss you."

There was a heavy silence until Ike looked back to Kyle and inquired, "Did he tell you that?"

Kyle's blush darkened, "He…tried. I think."

"What did he say?"

"He said he loved me because I was strong. That he loved me for whatever I was and wasn't."

"Well," Ike began, "what was the important part of that?"

"…that I'm strong to him?"

"No."

"He accepts me no matter what I'm like?"

Ike sat up on his knees and hit the back of Kyle's head, causing the boy to curse him before Ike fought,

"You are so romantically challenged!"

"What?!" Kyle implored as he sadly rubbed his head.

"He loves you, Kyle!"

"…yeah, I know."

Ike backed away, "You knew?"

Kyle grinned, "Of course. He loved me ever since we were little. You know I love 'you', don't you?"

Ike scowled, "NOT THAT KIND OF LOVE, DING-BAT!"

"…but if…you mean…uh…"

Ike stood, forcing Kyle to look at him as he planted his tiny hands on Kyle's knees,

"He's in love with you."

Kyle's heart thumped, a foreign smile spread for reasons unknown to Kyle as he asked softly,

"He's in love with me?"

Ike adored the grin crawling onto his brother's face, "Yeah."

Kyle closed his eyes, his fluster tickling his ears as he requested, "One more time."

Ike simpered, "Stan Marsh is in love with you, Kyle."

Kyle's smile spread as he opened his glassy eyes and breathed out, "Whoa…"

"Yeah," Ike smirked, "did that feel good?"

The redhead nodded, "You know…I've never been straight."

"Really?" Ike interviewed.

"Yeah, but I'm not gay either."

"…wha?"

Kyle chuckled as he looked away, "I've never been attracted to anyone but Stan. There was never a girl, there was never a guy…he was the only one I've ever had eyes for. Maybe that's why…when he would always talk about how beautiful Wendy was I…"

He looked back to his brother, "That's history, now."

"So…are you going to talk to him?"

Kyle stood, allowing his brother to back away as he stated, "Yeah…yeah, I'm done running."

As Ike walked to the door, he paused in the threshold, telling him,

"And Kyle,"

He looked back to his brother, "…he still needs you. I don't think that will ever change."

His eyes glistened, his heart pumping life into his once dead inspiration. Kyle watched his brother leave and simpered towards the door; he always underestimated Ike. He looked to his bedside table, reaching for his cell-phone, but he changed his mind. He looked back to his door, talking to himself, he muttered,

"I wonder…if I should just sneak out…"

"Why not call?"

"Well," Kyle replied, "I have to tell him in pers—"

The redhead whipped around to see Stan sitting on the closest branch to Kyle's window. Kyle raced over the windowsill, snapping in dismay,

"S-Stan!? What are you doing?! My room's on the second floor, if you fall—"

"I won't fall, Kyle. But I knew this way, you wouldn't run."

Kyle blushed, stepping a bit closer to rest his hands on the ledge as he stuck his torso out,

"…how…how long have you been there?"

Stan looked up, as if the answer was floating above his head before mumbling, "Eh…a little before your brother walked in."

Kyle's entire face flooded with blood as he barked, "T-that's playing d-dirty, you jerk!"

Stan laughed, "I'm just happy you're talking to me again…"

Kyle looked away bashfully, "Yeah, try three months of that."

Stan's brows furrowed, "I didn't object."

"Object?" Kyle repeated as he turned to face his friend.

"I didn't object to anything your brother said. So do you want to talk?"

Stan moved to the end of the thick branch, coming within two feet of Kyle. The redhead's heart beat could almost be heard echoing in anxiety,

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to tell you I love you?"

Kyle's mouth opened, but Stan stopped him from speaking,

"You gave me everything. I shouldn't have tried to force you to admit anything…back there, so I'm sorry for that…but, Kyle…I'm not leaving."

Kyle's eyes widened as Stan felt blood crawling up his face,

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here, by your side, until the very end. You don't have to be on your own. You don't have to prove a damn thing to me. I know you're strong. I love you for it. And I know I'm nothing without you, so I'm never leaving this spot." Stan smiled at Kyle's shocked face, "Right here. I'm never going. I'm never going to leave you. As long as I live, you never have to be alone. Even…even death can't take that away."

Kyle wasn't sure what to say, his socially-stressed side overwhelming him. He stuck his arm out, causing his friend to cock a brow. The redhead simply told him,

"Well…get in."

Stan began to reach towards the arm, but before they touched he inquired, "Does this mean…ehm…"

"This means I want you to come inside. I'll talk to you once I know you're not gonna fall and die."

Stan smirked, taking Kyle's arm that allowed him to fall into the room. He had only just let his leg fall in from over the windowsill when Kyle's lips took his own. He blushed furiously, recognizing the lush and satin texture that had pressed against chin earlier that night. He let his hands rise and lightly brush Kyle's heated cheeks and to his surprise the moment he touched the silk skin, Kyle's mouth opened to him with a soft whimper. Stan took advantage of the invitation, kissing the boy fiercely as his grip on the boy's jaw-line tightened. Stan's racing heart skipped a beat as he felt Kyle's lanky arms wrap around his neck, bringing him closer. Their bodies were so close they could feel each other's hearts banging against the other's chest, creating deafeningly beautiful music, until they tore apart and gasped for air.

Stan looked to see it was not a daydream this time. Kyle's lips were cutely swollen, his face bright and red as a cherry, his emerald eyes low and gazing at him. Silence ensued until Stan asked,

"Whe…where did that come from? Why?"

Kyle rested his head against Stan's shoulder, his nose lightly tickling the crook of Stan's neck as he replied,

"I'm in love with you."

Stan backed away to look Kyle in the eyes as the redhead admitted,

"A strong man…faces who he is…he accepts all of his faults and errors…so…it's time I told you…you were right…I was jealous of Wendy…not because she got the majority of your social-time or…or because she was all you talked about…I was jealous because…she had you in the way I couldn't."

The ebony-haired boy touched his own lips lightly, commenting, "I just…stole your first kiss…"

"You didn't steal it, I gave it to you. You're the only one I'd ever want. You're the only one I've ever wanted."

"But…uh…Ada—"

"No one can take me away, Stan. Nothing you ever say, never again." Kyle smirked, "Cause you need me."

Stan blushed, glaring challengingly as he retorted, "A bit cocky, no? I always warned you about your bloated ego."

Kyle stood on his toes and touched Stan's lips with his again, shortly, cutely before telling him,

"I want things to be this way. So…so I'm sorry for running away. That was stupid, but I was scared of getting hurt. But…you make me stronger. You make me want to be a better person, Stan. You always have. Without you, I could never grow. So stay with me."

"Gladly." Stan told him as his thumb traced his freckles.

Kyle cleared his throat obnoxiously, causing Stan to ask, "What?"

"Say it."

Stan's condescending smirk was tickling Kyle's lips into a mirror image as he replied,

"I'm in love with you, Kyle."

They kissed again and it lasted a long while until Kyle broke away and inquired,

"Hey…wait…why…why did you come to my house…wait…did…did Ike talk you into sneaking here after the sho—"

Stan laughed nervously, taking Kyle's face into his palms again as he distracted him, "This isn't angry-time, this is kissing-time—"

Kyle hit his chest childishly, "DUDE! I TOLD IKE NOT TO INTERFERE!"

"As if you're not totally thrilled I was outside your window, listening to you confess all your gushy feelings for me!"

Kyle blushed furiously, "Dude I hate you!"

Stan claimed Kyle's lips again, the redhead's anger dying out and leaving the room through the window. Stan's smile was resting against Kyle's as Stan told him,

"I'll never leave you."

"Than—"

Kyle's response was hushed with Stan's finger before Stan winked and told him, "Don't thank me."


	20. I'm Back With A New Tune

"Shit, I hated this year."

"You hate everything about school, dude."

"Crap, man, but Junior year fuckin' sucked ass."

Kenny interjected, "Yeah, but after this summer we're gonna be seniors, then college!"

Cartman scoffed, "Fuck that, I'm not going to college. I'm gettin' rich and gettin' outta this hell-hole."

Kyle laughed, "Oh, that's 'rich', Cartman, 'rich'! …ha-ha, get it? Rich?...get it?"

Kenny blurted out into laughter as Stan shook his head; Kenny took Kyle's shoulder explaining,

"D-dude, just to clarify, I'm not laughing with you, I'm laughing at you."

Kyle glared, "I had a feeling."

They walked out onto the parking lot as Kyle mentioned, "Hey…Stan, Wendy wanted us to look into this play Mrs. Herit and Ms. Thrunton are doing over summer break."

Stan cocked a brow, "Oh really? You sound like you're hiding something, what's the catch?"

Kyle grinned cutely, "Uh…Adam's in it."

Stan shot him a dirty look, "You know I hate that kid."

"Yeah," Kyle's smile faded into a pout, "but I was hoping you'd look past that…"

"Look past my hatred?"

"Hey," Kenny began, "you never explained what happened with him, Stan. Last we saw that kid was in the parlor like…two years ago…why did you hate him so much?"

Stan flustered, but didn't look to Kenny, fearing his voice might crack,

"No reason. I just hate him."

Kenny looked to Cartman who was sending them suspicious looks. Cartman started,

"Bullshit. Why can't you tell us why you hate him?"

Kyle glanced to Stan, but the boy didn't look back at him, so he moved his gaze ahead like Stan's and replied,

"You probably just wouldn't understand, Cartman. Let's keep in mind your brain capacity, we don't wanna push it."

The brunette glared as Kenny chuckled, but the blonde still pressed,

"Come on, it feels like you guys have been hiding things! Spill it!"

"Hiding things?" Stan argued, "Hiding things about some gay kid who had a hard-on for Kyle?"

Kyle's face flooded with red, "D-did not! Shut up!"

"Oh, come on, Kyle!" Stan laughed, "His pants must've gotten so tight with you around."

Kyle pushed Stan's shoulder, "Shut up! I hate you!"

Kenny was eyeing them dangerously in the comfortable silence. The only sounds were their feet on the sidewalk, Cartman's were clearly a bit heavier than everyone else's, but looking at both of them Kenny found his answer…

"Dude, what are you looking at?" Stan asked in uneasy defense.

"Have you guys been fucking?"

The moment the question spat out, Kyle lost concentration on his footing and tripped, on his way down to fall on his face he grabbed Stan's book-bag as a last resort, but he still hit the ground, causing Stan to bend back awkwardly, his ebony hair falling around his face as they both stammered,

"W-WHAT?"

Kenny laughed as Cartman looked flabbergasted, Kyle stood up, snapping,

"A-ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

Stan regained his composure, straightening the sling on his backpack. He blushed as Kyle looked to his arm and brushed off some dirt that must have found its way there when the redhead fell. Kyle looked back at Kenny whose mouth was wide open in an outrageous smile. The Jew scowled at him,

"NO! STOP!"

"Stop what?" Kenny laughed.

"Stop imagining me and Stan doing it!"

"Aw, you know me so well!" Kenny chirped.

Kyle glared and walked ahead of the group. He looked back at them when he reached the corner and told them,

"Sorry, guys, but I took off work today. Ike's in the school-play at the middle-school and I promised to go see him. I'll see you guys later, though."

He waved them off, but his eyes last fell on Stan before he changed his route. Stan admired his backside the entire way, until he was positive Kenny was watching him. Cartman was falling behind Stan and 

Kenny, but neither were sympathetic for the large boy, so they didn't slow down. Kenny looked to Stan who still seemed flustered,

"…so…you didn't do it yet?"

"Not yet."

"Wow! I didn't think you'd come clean. How long have you guys been…you know…"

Stan smirked, "Freshman year."

"Shit, how did I miss that?" Kenny groaned.

Stan chuckled, "We've kept it a good secret, so I can't imagine you could've seen it. We're subtle."

"Very," Kenny began, "…dang…so when are you gonna do it?"

"Well," Stan started, "Kyle's…you know, new to dating and romance and stuff…even two years later and he still gets all red when I kiss him. I haven't done a thing to him. He makes it hard for me to stay away and control myself, but I'd do anything for him."

Kenny cocked a brow, "You still haven't specified when you're gonna do it."

Stan smiled, "I'm going to the show with him tonight. He didn't want to say anything cause…well, it's a secret. Ike knows, but he's pretty much the only one. So…saying that we were going together would surely…sound…suspicious, but anyway…"

"Tonight?" Kenny guessed.

"I hope." Stan laughed.

"So since when have you been gay?"

"I'm not gay. I'm just in love with Kyle."

"…and you find him sexually attractive…so I'm thinkin' your gay."

Stan smirked, "Whatever. I've been gay ever since I found out I loved Kyle."

"…like…love-love?"

"Ehm…love?"

"Like…like real love? Like…not…not like reality-TV real…like…SpikeTV's MOST SHOCKING real?"

Stan chuckled, "Kenny…I'll tell you how real it is." He paused, looking to his shoes before explaining,

"A couple days ago, we were on his bed sharing the plugs to his ipod and we conked out. When I woke up I was on my side, my head against his chest…he was facing me, but he was still asleep…and I 

realized…that was how I wanted live, and that's how I wanted to die. I wanna spend the rest of my life with him by my side…and I want to die right in his arms, right where I began actually living. That's where I belong, and nothing…I mean, nothing has ever felt so right before. Like…so right that…I feel like I'm following the path God set out for me."

Kenny blushed, wide-eyed, "That's…that's amazing, dude…"

Stan looked back at the blonde, "Yeah. Honestly, I know he's the only one for me. I know I'll love him like I love him now for the rest of my life and far, far beyond that."

"You know…the whole…issue with gays and God, right?" Kenny pressed.

"Yeah, but I don't mind if I'm punished. I'm strong enough to face anything God's got planned for me. As long as I have Kyle and all he taught me…" Stan grinned, "I'll be happy for every moment. Not one regret. And in the end, I think all God's wanted for me…was to feel this."

"So…you hated Adam cause he tried to get Kyle?"

Stan glared, "No, I hate him because…well…" He laughed, "Heh, I guess you're right. I hated him cause he wanted Kyle."

Kenny smirked, "Sheesh, a little possessive, no?"

Stan just smiled, looking back to see Kyle turning a different corner. He looked ahead of himself again, replying,

"It flatters him, anyway. No one's taking him away from me. And I'll never let Adam of all people get the chance. Kyle's mine." His smile spread, "Until the very end, I'll be by his side. No one and nothing could ever get in the way of that again."

**END**

**Thank you all so much for so many wonderful reviews and favorite adds and author alert adds! It's been so so so so so much fun writing this and all of my wonderful readers really made it worthwhile! I hope you all enjoyed it and check out my other South Park fanfictions! I promise, I'll be back soon enough with a new one that's bubbling in my head! Again, thank you all for reviews and adds and PMs and fanart, it's been absolutely wonderful! **


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